


The More You See (The Less You Know)

by zubeneschamali



Series: Cyberpunk [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Cyberpunk, M/M, dystopia au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 17:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15077831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zubeneschamali/pseuds/zubeneschamali
Summary: Sequel to "They're Advertising in the Skies (For People Like Us.)" Jared is on the run from the powerful company that claims he's stolen their technology, although they were the ones who stole his life first. Jensen's on the run with him, determined to get to the North where he can do more to fight the corporate system than just poke at it the way he has been for years. First, though, they'll have to make it to the border through hazardous territory by trusting a network of strangers—and learning to trust each other.





	The More You See (The Less You Know)

**Author's Note:**

> The original, much shorter, story was based on amindaya's art for the SPN reversebang way back in 2011. So many thanks to her for inspiring me in the first place. Brief recap: Corporate conglomerates rule (most of) the world. J2 hooked up after meeting at a bar and sharing their secrets: Jensen has some illegal implants to help him navigate the world "off-grid," meaning outside of the congloms, while Jared had his entire arm replaced at the demand of his employer. Jared contacts Jensen again when his employer (Foxxonbank) wants to swap out his other arm, and they go on the run, which is where this story begins.
> 
> The title is once again from "City of Blinding Lights" by U2, so I guess that's the soundtrack if you need one. Thanks to chemm80 for doing a wonderful job of beta reading, suggesting story improvements, and reassuring me. Thanks also to dollarformyname for picking me again! And for producing some fabulous art that really fits the atmosphere of the fic. Check it out [here](https://dollarformyname.livejournal.com/87200.html).
> 
> Final note: This is a near-future dystopia that might hit a little close to home. I started writing it at least five years ago, and in some ways, we're getting really close to this world. So I understand if that's not your cup of tea right now. On the other hand, if you want to read about a ray of hope in the face of an ever-bleaker world, this might be a good time for it.

Jensen figures they've made it about sixty miles outside of the Metroplex by the time his head explodes. 

Not literally, of course. He's heard rumors about technology from one of the milindustrial congloms that will do just that, send an energy wave beaming at you at exactly the right frequency to resonate inside your skull and fry the contents. This is more of a figurative explosion, his blocker lighting up at the same time that warning alerts start chirping in his ear.

"Shit," he mutters. "Hang on."

Jared stops beside him, looking up and down the empty road in the dark. "What is it?"

"Internal alerts." Jensen puts a hand to his temple and presses at the right spot to bring him access to a different set of networks. The wind whipping around them is making it harder to hear, and he notches up the volume. A moment later, he sighs. "Shit."

"What? Do we have to run?" Jared's looking back and forth across the distant fields like he's going to see a phalanx of security vehicles headed for them out of the darkness.

"No, but I was hoping we were going to get farther out of town before this happened." Jensen taps his temple, and the noise dials down to a background roar. "I set up some ferrets to watch the Foxxonbank networks for certain keys. Your bosses have noticed you're gone."

Jared stares at him. "We left last night. They weren't supposed to know I'd taken off until I didn't show up for work on Monday morning."

"Yeah, well, they have their ways." He listens for a moment longer. "Okay, maybe it's not so bad. They know you didn't come home today, but it _is_ Saturday, and maybe you stayed out somewhere. That's not something you've done before, so it bears watching."

"Maybe I just never met the right guy," Jared mutters.

Jensen shoots him a quick glance. He can't believe a guy as hot as Jared wouldn't be out with someone every weekend. Jensen gets plenty of action despite being off the grid and on a conglom blacklist, and Jared certainly didn't object when Jensen picked him up at the aug bar two weeks ago. Then again, Jared had recently had his whole life and a good chunk of his body rearranged without his consent. Maybe getting your arm taken off and replaced with a Class 1 aug made you re-evaluate some things about yourself. 

Out loud, he says, "No judgment. Point is, they're going to start scanning traffic cams to see if they can get a lock on where you've been. Now, I know there aren't any within a few blocks of my place, but farther out—"

"I know how to avoid the cams," Jared says. "I made sure I was off the screen when I went to the bar, and I figured out how to get from my place to yours last night without passing more than the two on my block. And I'm guessing by the time we came back above ground, we were out of sight."

"Well, all right then." Jensen reminds himself that just because Jared's been working for a conglom, it doesn't mean he doesn't know how to get around the system. "And yeah, we were beyond the range of the cams when Misha met us. That'll buy us some time."

"We're on our own for three days though, right? Till we get to the next station?"

"Three nights, yeah, with at least ten hours walking each. You up for it?"

For answer, Jared holds up his left hand. His glove is off, and the cool gleam of moonlight shines off the metal fingers. "It's not like I can go back," he says quietly. "They'll probably do worse than take away my other arm, after this."

"Then let's go."

They walk along quietly, shoes crunching on the gravel at the side of the road. It's just after midnight, and though they haven’t had to hide from any passing traffic for a couple of hours, Jensen can only hope that continues. Out on the rolling plains of north Texas, there's not a whole lot of vegetation at the side of the road to hide behind. The few houses they pass are set well back from the road, and they can't risk one of them anyway. Whether they're making a living from oil or ranching, most folks out here are tied into the congloms as closely as Jared used to be. Two strangers out on their own will look suspicious even if a public alert hasn't been raised yet.

That's why major highways are definitely out for their travels. After the Crash, infrastructure like roads and bridges were among the first things states and feds sold off to try and get an infusion of cash to keep limping along. The proto-congloms that were picking through the ruins of the economy snatched up every interstate and highway they could, and now they're all owned and maintained by one company or another. That means they've got all sorts of private patrols and cameras that are ostensibly there to catch toll evaders but can easily pull double duty to catch a fugitive if the bounty is high enough. Even a county-designated road like this one makes the back of Jensen's neck prickle; the local authorities might have sold their streets to raise some funds while promoting safety and security to their residents. 

But this road is a neat diagonal line cutting from where they're fleeing to where they have to go, and so Jensen vows to keep his eyes open and his sweeper running. The pack on his back contains two charged batteries, and he's probably going to have to hook into one of them whenever they stop to sleep. He and Jared both need his internal net connection and subliminal blocker too much for him to run out of power. He's just going to have to trust that they'll find places for him to recharge the batteries along the way. Misha's directions to the first station on their journey have been memorized and discarded, no paper or electronic trail to threaten anyone on the Railroad should they be caught. 

Jensen's used to those kinds of security measures to keep himself as off the grid as anyone can be these days. What he's not used to is being physically vulnerable, outside of the city and responsible for another person's welfare along with his own.

Jared clears his throat. "What are we gonna do if it looks this when it's time to stop for the night?" He sweeps his arm around, indicating the dry landscape around them visible under the nearly-full moon. "Nowhere to hide, nowhere to get water?"

"Then we'll keep going," Jensen said. "Even when we do stop, we'll have to sleep in shifts. No way we can both be vulnerable."

"Yeah, I guess not." Jared casts a sideways glance at him. "Have you done this before?"

"I've never left Dallas in my life," Jensen replies. At Jared's surprised look, he goes on, "Why would I need to? Even before the Crash, my family all lived there. And after…well, traveling isn't something most people can afford. Harder to stay off the grid if you're mobile, anyway. More chances to be seen."

"It's just, you seem like you know what you're doing," Jared says. "Like you've been on the Railroad before."

"Nope." Jensen shakes his head. "I used to help people get started, so I guess I absorbed a lot of advice to pass on to them. Most of it worked."

"You said there was someone who got caught," Jared says hesitantly. "And that's why you stopped doing it."

"Yeah." They walk in silence for a few paces, while Jensen figures out how to frame it. "From what I know, he got as far as St. Louis. Crossing rivers is tricky because there's only so many bridges, and they're all major enough roads to have private cams on them." Jared nods, and Jensen goes on, "And maybe sometimes you can swim or wade across a river, but not the Mississippi, you know?"

"Wasn't there someone there to help him across?"

Jensen sighs. "That's not always how the Railroad works. Most often, it's like us, here." He gestures at the empty road before them. "We have a station to go to, but it's up to us how to get there. Might seem dumb to be taking a straight line like we are, if you looked at the map."

"It's only dumb if someone knows where we're going," Jared replies. "And then we're fucked anyway."

Jensen points at him, relieved that he caught on. "Exactly. Point is, the people who maintain the stations know something about the area right around them. They have to, to keep themselves safe. But mostly, they're a place to hide and resupply. People like Misha who actually transport passengers are pretty rare."

"Still, you'd think if they were near a major crossing, they'd advise people how to get through it."

"Maybe, maybe not. They can't keep track of their surroundings and all of the routes in and out, plus stay below the radar. It's not like the old Underground Railroad, you know. It's not one-way. Some people are going north, some south. Some even west, joining the Californian separatists. That's too much to be responsible for."

Jared sighs. "I guess I should be grateful there's people willing to take someone like me in at all."

"It's a lot to ask," Jensen agrees. "But then, there's a lot of people who don't agree with the way things are. This is a way for them to do something about it, even if it's one person at a time."

"Wish there were more like that," Jared mutters.

"You and me both," Jensen replies.

He's surprised when Jared grabs his hand. "At least there was you," Jared says. "I don't know what I'd be doing right now if I hadn't met you."

Jensen wants to reassure him that he'd be fine, he'd have stalled the conglom and its demands to replace his other arm with a Class 1 aug like the first. But he remembers the desperation in Jared's voice when he'd called in the middle of the night to let Jensen know what his employers were trying to take from him, and he's not sure he can say anything.

So he squeezes Jared's hand instead, and they trudge down the road, the glow of the moon lighting their way.

 

The sun is starting to rise behind them as they crest a small hill. There's a small town in the distance, a handful of buildings and a weatherbeaten grain silo visible in the dim light. "Should we stop there?" Jared asks.

"See that barn?" Jensen points to a faded red structure about halfway to the town. It's visibly leaning to the side, even from this distance. "Doesn't look like anyone's home, does it?"

"You suppose the water's turned on?" Jared holds up his empty bottle, one Jensen had provided to be sure there was no tracker embedded in the plastic.

"If not, we can try going into town once it's dark again," Jensen says. "Assuming they haven't made me as well as you. I've got enough camo on my accounts to be able to buy some stuff. Assuming this doesn't mark me for a freak right away," he adds, holding out his wrist to show the faint shimmer of the implant just under the surface.

"You'd be surprised how many people have one," Jared replies. "Even out in rural areas, it makes life a lot easier."

"You been out here much?" Jensen asks. 

Jared shakes his head. "My brother was going to med school when the Crash happened. He'd made a deal with some little town in West Texas to pay for the years he had left if he'd be their doctor, and both sides actually kept it up. Aside from falls and sprains and stuff, one of the things he did most often was put in bar codes and other implants."

"Huh." Jensen absently rubbed at his temple. "Wouldn't have though there'd be much call for that out here."

"People need the 'net everywhere, Jensen." Jared eyes him more carefully. "So keep that blocker of yours turned on. There's 'lims out here, too."

"Advertising which brand of cattle feed is best, I suppose," Jensen replies in his best Texas drawl.

"And which brand of whiskey, and which kind of pickup truck, and all of that stuff." Jared shrugs one shoulder. "Y'know, in case there's more than one to pick from anyway."

Jensen snorts. "I think if Ford and Chevy ever joined under one conglom, that really would be the end of the world."

That gets him a faint smile from Jared, and he turns away to hide his own small grin. He doesn't know why it's become his mission to make Jared smile and laugh along with getting him the hell out of Dodge, but somehow it has. Probably the damn dimples or something.

The barn is mostly empty: there's some rusty machinery that Jensen would love to pick at and see if it could be useful, and wisps of straw decorate the rough board floor. Probably mice in here, too, but he's not going to worry about that. He makes a quick sweep with the handmade detector he pulls out of his pack before giving a sigh. 

"Everything okay?" Jared asks.

"Nothing electronic in here," Jensen replies. "Which is good because it's safe. But I was hoping to plug in somewhere."

Jared blinks. "You need to plug yourself in?"

Jensen waves a hand in the air. "I don't have an outlet in my skull, no. But I'll need a recharging pad near my head at some point so the blockers stay fired up."

"Makes sense." Jared draws in a breath with a heave of his chest that Jensen watches in admiration. "I can take the first watch, if you want to rest."

"I don't mind."

"Not sure I can sleep."

Jensen nods slowly. That's not surprising, given that Jared just walked away from his entire life with only a few days to prepare. To be fair, Jensen had just done the same, but then he'd already turned his back on the world once, at least what passed for the ordinary world these days. "Wake me up if you need to, all right? You hear noises, you start thinking about what cattle feed is best, anything."

With a snort, Jared gives him a light shove. "Go to sleep, Jensen."

Tired as he is, it takes Jensen a while to fall asleep. It's broad daylight, and the cracks in the barn walls let in slivers of it all over the place. It's also too quiet: there are no sounds but the rustle of leaves in the breeze and the occasional car on the road. He's used to the swish of traffic and the buzz of sirens, the electronic whir of his machines and the soft murmur of voices from the 'net in his ear. He's even turned off his implants to save the battery, and it's way too quiet.

If Jensen thinks about it, there's also part of him that doesn't trust Jared to watch out for the both of them. He doesn't know the guy, not really, and even though it's probably worth Jared's life not to get caught, how does a nanoengineer from the city know how to function on the run? He doesn't have the protections in his head that Jensen has against unwanted intrusions.

But eventually, Jensen's eyes close, and eventually, his tense muscles relax enough for him to fall asleep.

It feels like it's only been a few minutes when Jared shakes him awake with a quiet, "Hey."

Jensen jerks upright, almost smashing his head into Jared's nose. "Sorry," he says with a clumsy pat to Jared's cheek. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Just, it's your turn." Jared looks more exhausted than Jensen has ever seen him, and as tired as Jensen still is, there's no way he's denying him his turn at some sleep. 

He stands up and stretches. "So, hay is actually pretty good for sleeping on."

Jared rolls his eyes like he can see right through Jensen's bullshit. What he says is, "All's quiet here. Didn't find any water, but that jerky you packed is surprisingly good."

"Of course it's good, it's independent." Jensen shoots him a grin. "Got that as payment for one of my security jobs last year. Didn't think I'd ever eat it, though."

"Well, I hope you enjoy it." Jared yawns and collapses onto the pile of hay. "Wake me up when it gets dark."

He's out like a light, but Jensen stands there to watch him for a little while. His long limbs are sprawled out, even though there's only enough of the hay to cushion his head and torso. Poor guy must be exhausted to sleep so soundly on the wooden floor like that.

 _You mean like you were doing a few minutes ago_ , the voice in his head tells him.

His implants are still turned off, so it's not _that_ kind of voice in his head. Which means he's talking to himself, which means he still needs more sleep. He turns on the 'net on a low power setting. If he can't have any coffee to wake him up, he's going to have to use the news.

Half an hour later, Jensen's watching Jared sleep again. The news he'd been able to glean was good: no all-out manhunt for Jared Padalecki on behalf of Foxxonbank, not even a quiet, under-the-radar search. Maybe they have until Monday after all.

He logs into the most secure network he can find and quickly creates a burner account. Three people get the e-mail he sends: his sister, his mom, and Chris, his closest friend. There's no subject, and all it says is, "im ok." When he's done, he erases the account and double-checks that he's left no trace of his location. The e-mail will electronically disintegrate as soon as it's read, leaving no trace on anyone's system. It's something he developed months ago for a client, and he hasn't had occasion to do more than test it since. But there'll never be a better time to use it.

True, there aren't any news reports about an old warehouse blowing up in central Dallas. He didn't pay for fire protection, so his address won't show up on any official documents or feeds. Still, if anyone who matters finds out that his home went up in flames, he doesn't want them freaking out about it. It's risky to send the message, yeah, but he can't bear the thought of his family thinking he's dead. Gone, yes—they'll figure that out soon enough. But alive on the other side of the border is better than the alternative.

 

The next night passes much like the last one, trudging down the road in the moonlight. Close to morning, Jensen fiddles with his implants, uses the subvocal to issue commands and do a search for foreclosure properties for sale along their route. He finds one about half a mile off the road that hasn't been sold in years. It's an over-the-top log cabin nestled up against the banks of a creek with a few scraggly trees around it in lieu of a forest. Probably someone from Dallas who wanted to make their summer dreams come true and had it yanked out from under them. The good news is, the power and water are still on, so he can recharge and they can both shower.

He knows Jared was only able to fit a single change of clothes in his backpack. The poor guy couldn't risk carrying anything larger, given that his employers were likely to be watching him. Jensen packed as much as he could, but his clothes don't quite reach Jared's ankles or wrists, and given that he's trying to hide the augmented arm as much as possible, that's no good. It's not like they can stop to wash their clothes here, but at least a rinse in the sink and overnight drying on a towel rack will leave them a little fresher. And the shower is _definitely_ a good thing.

They start off again after sunset, this time with the first station in their sights. It's three A.M. when they enter a small town, moving cautiously and quietly to avoid waking any watchful dogs or light sleepers. The address Misha told them is two blocks off the main street, a light blue ranch with a wooden wishing well out front. There's just enough moonlight to make out the landmarks. Jensen eyes the neighboring houses to make sure no one is peering out the window before he walks up and bares his wrist to the handle of the crank of the well.

Jared's peering over his shoulder. "Is that your ticket?"

"So to speak," Jensen replies quietly. "Supposed to be a code that verifies I'm a legitimate passenger in need of help."

There's a pulse of red light from underneath the handle, along with a soft beep. A moment later, the front door opens, and a woman comes out with long red hair. "Come around back," she orders in what sounds to Jensen like a Scottish accent.

They follow her around the back of the house. There's a hedge between her house and the one next door, and she's short enough to pass by it without being seen. Jensen and Jared duck as they go past, just in case someone's wondering why the neighbors are out in the middle of the night.

When they reach the backyard, they see a tall willow tree right behind the house, and land sloping down to what's probably a creek bed, lined with more trees. There's a patio next to the willow, and a wooden trellis dripping with purple wisteria forms a gateway to the patio.

The woman walks under it, and Jensen follows. She's turned to watch him, sharp features narrowing. 

He tilts his head to sniff at one of the delicate purple blossoms, but there's nothing there. Must just be there to look at, then. With Jared right behind him, he steps onto the patio.

When he looks back at the woman, she's holding up one hand. "Stop right there," she hisses. "Don't come any closer."

Jensen pauses, Jared close enough behind him that they momentarily bump into each other. "What?"

"You're not clean," she snaps. "Get out of here."

Jensen quashes the impulse to make a joke about how they did actually shower last night because this woman's face is way too serious. From behind him, Jared asks, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're being tracked. You need to leave, now."

Jensen shakes his head. "There's no way. I ran all the scans I have before we left, and there's no way that—"

"Well, you missed something." She pushes back her flowing sleeve to show the bright red line pulsing against her wrist. "My sensors don't miss."

"Is it me?" Jared asks tightly.

She nods. "So get the hell out of here."

Jensen's stomach drops. They need rest, and water, and to figure out where they're going next. They _need_ this station. Not to mention the darker fear that if they really are being tracked, there's nowhere they can go anyway.

 _One thing at a time_ , he tells himself. "We gotta keep moving," he says in a low voice to Jared. "Anywhere we stop, they'll wonder what's up. We can't put someone else in danger."

"Jensen, I don't understand," Jared says, his voice low but shot through with panic. "I checked for trackers in this thing a hundred times. You checked for trackers, and I know you have good tech. There wasn't anything there."

"We'll figure it out later," Jensen replies. "Believe me, we will. But right now, let's go." He tugs on Jared's sleeve and prepares to turn his back on what he thought would be their shelter.

To his surprise, the woman says, "Keep going down this same road. Two miles out of town, there's a red house set back off the road. The mailbox looks like a tractor. It's been empty for years. I'll meet you there."

"How do we know it'll just be you?" Jared asks, his voice tight.

She puts her hands on her hips. "If I wanted to turn you in, I'd be inviting you into my house, now wouldn't I?"

"Let's go." Jensen's gut is churning with the same nerves and distrust Jared has just voiced, but they don't really have a choice. Misha only gave them directions to this station, and unless this woman can tell them what the next step is, they're completely on their own already. 

They walk through the small town, alert and quiet. Thankfully, it's still early enough that there's no one awake to see them, nor anyone on the road when they get to the red house, and so they're able to slip inside.

The house might be empty, but water comes out of the faucets, fairly clear water at that. The light switches don't do anything, but the sun is starting to rise, and Jensen's eyes have gotten used to dim light anyway. They scrub up and take a drink before sitting at rickety wooden chairs around a scratched-up dining room table. Jensen aims his detector around the room and listens with one of his augs turned up to high sensitivity. Both show the place to be electronic-free, and he relaxes a fraction.

"Wonder who used to live here," Jared says, metal fingers tracing the grain of the woodwork of the table.

"Probably someone who lost it all in the Crash," Jensen replies, placing the palm-sized detector on the table in front of him. "Or who died."

"Morbid much?" Jared mutters.

Jensen sighs. "I don't know, Jared. I don't understand how I didn't catch whatever it was that her scans did."

"Wouldn't that do it?" Jared asks, pointing at the detector resting on the table.

"Not really. It detects electromagnetic frequencies, but just if they're there or not, not which ones," Jensen replies. "That aug of yours is fancy enough to have a crapton of electronics in it just to function, so even if I ran it over you, I couldn't tell if something else was buried in there. But I didn't show anything on you when you came to my place." 

He thinks hard for a moment about the blocking devices he had installed over the door. He always updated them as soon as he heard about new tracking or surveillance systems being implemented, an arms race between the most powerful organizations in the country and li'l old him. Well, not just him, but a network of people devoted to living off the grid in the metaphorical sense. They didn't know everything, though, and sometimes something slipped past them.

It occurs to him that it really _was_ a good idea to go on the run with Jared. If he is being tracked, Jensen's home would have been the last place he showed up. The signal would have cut out when they went underground, but when they popped up again…he panics for a moment before remembering Misha's safehouses are single-use. And there's been no mention in the news of anyone being caught helping fugitives get on the Railroad, so maybe they weren't paying attention to Jared at that point. If they're lucky, it's a tracker that only provides current location and doesn't store past geospatial data. 

"So have they really known where I am this whole time?" Jared asks quietly. His gaze is directed at the table, artificial fingers moving over the worn surface of the wood. "All this time, I thought we were being so careful and clever, and really they've just been letting us get away?"

"It could be a way to flush people out," Jensen says. "Let them run and try to find the station they stop at." He scrubs a hand over his face. "Two to one she doesn't even show up."

"How detailed do you suppose the tracker is?" Jared asks. "Like, do they know what backyard we were in? Or just that we were in this town?" 

"I don't know." Jensen taps his fist on the table. "I would have sworn that there was no trace of you anyway. I don't know what kind of circuitry she has that could be better than mine."

"She has to be extra careful if she's on the Railroad," Jared replies. "Give her some credit."

Jensen shakes his head. "Maybe she was making it up. Maybe she got scared and this was her way of dealing with it, placing the blame on us."

"Have some faith, Jensen."

He glares at Jared. "I can't afford to have faith in people I don't even know."

"You don't know me," Jared replies. "Not really."

"I know you well enough," Jensen retorts.

Before Jared can reply, there's a sharp creak. It's the screen door out front, and the two of them are instantly on their feet, looking to the back exit to make sure the way is clear.

"Hello?" It's the woman's accented voice, and Jensen relaxes a fraction. He points his detector towards the door, and his shoulders lower a bit more when it only indicates one or two sources, not the whole host of frequencies that would indicate the authorities.

He drops the device on the table as she walks in. "Are you all right?" she asks.

"Were you followed?" Jensen asks in reply.

She puts her hands on her hips. "I know how to take care of myself, thank you very much."

"We're just tired, ma'am," Jared says. He's almost swaying where he stands.

"There's a bed upstairs," she says. "You can stay here during the day, but then you'll have to go."

"What about the tracker?" Jared holds out his arm, metal hand gleaming in the beam of sunlight from the window. "I can't stay here if they know where I am."

"I have something for that," she says. She's carrying a cloth bag over one shoulder, and she swings it onto the table. She takes out a long, dark cloth, almost like a blindfold, but thicker, and pulls it taut between her hands. "This will block the signal."

Jensen reaches out and fingers the cloth. It's a little thicker than a bandana, slightly silky to the touch. "What is this?"

"There are nano-blockers woven into the fabric," she replies. "A friend of mine makes them. We haven't found anything yet that it can't block if you bunch it up enough."

"But that won't fit my whole arm," Jared says.

Her eyes briefly widen, and Jensen shoots Jared a glare. Jared stares back unapologetically, and Jensen shakes his head. He's going to have to warn Jared later about sharing too many details, not just for their own protection but that of the people who are helping them. 

She shakes her head. "If we're giving away things we probably shouldn't, call me Ruth so we're even. Now then, this doesn't have to cover your whole arm." She points at Jensen's detector. "That picks up EMF, right?"

He nods, impressed that she recognizes what it's for. "Won't help us here, though."

"It might. If not, I've got something more sensitive back home." Ruth turns to Jared. "Hold out your arm." 

He does so, wrist extending out from his jacket and revealing the beginning of the translucent part of the arm.

Ruth asks, "The whole arm?"

Jared nods, face impassive.

"I'll be damned." She briefly purses her lips. "Okay, here's what we'll do. Sweep that up and down his arm." She points to Jensen.

He doesn't think it's going to do any good, but he's too tired to argue. He runs the detector from Jared's wrist to shoulder, hovering a few inches above his jacket. There's a low buzz from the device the whole way, though it does beep a couple of times, once each at the wrist and elbow and then again near his shoulder. Jensen doesn't know where exactly the aug begins, and he hasn't felt right asking. If Jared wants to tell him or show him, it's up to him. 

He asks Jared, "Do you know if the electronics are concentrated near the joints?"

Jared frowns. "I think so. It's all under the skin, though, or whatever the hell the covering is called." 

"How high up does it go?" Ruth asks, and now Jensen's glaring at her.

Jared holds up his right hand to a spot just above his bicep. "Here."

"That's probably it, then," she says. She hands him the scarf. "Tie that around your upper arm, right where his thing-a-ma-jiggy beeped."

"Thing-a-ma-jiggy," Jensen mutters. "Here, let me do it," he says, putting down the detector and snatching up the scarf. Jared holds out his arm, and Jensen ties it where Jared directs him.

When he runs the detector past Jared's arm again, it only beeps at the wrist and elbow. 

Ruth nods, satisfied. "You'll have to come by my place after dark and go through the arch again to be sure. Now, take it off."

"Excuse me?" Jared demands.

"She's right," Jensen says. He reaches out and tugs the scarf down so it falls over Jared's elbow. "If they are tracking you, and it suddenly cuts out, they'll want to know why. A blip once or twice is a glitch. A signal disappearing means it's worth checking out."

"Then when am I supposed to start using it?" Jared frowns. 

Jensen lowers his voice. "When we're out of this town and away from the person who gave it to us. We can't endanger anyone along the way."

Jared sighs and briefly closes his eyes. "I'm sorry," he says to Ruth. "I wasn't thinking."

"It's understandable," she says. She pauses for a moment and then turns around, lifting her long, red hair.

Jared gasps, and Jensen leans around him to see. There's a red scar across the back of her neck, a thick rectangle that's darker on one edge. She looks over her shoulder at them. "I know how to get away and stay hidden," she says. 

"What was it?" Jared asks softly. It should be a rude question to ask, but given what Jared's already revealed about the extent of his own aug, Jensen figures he's allowed an exception.

"Neural enhancement to maintain wakefulness," Ruth says. She lets her hair fall over her neck and turns around to face them. "Like being on Red Bull twenty-four-seven."

"I've known people with those," Jensen says. "They're hard to get a hold of, and they can really fuck you up."

She makes a face. "Mine was given to me for free. Part of the conditions of my employment."

Jared lifts his augmented hand and gives her a small wave. "Just as illegal as this, I'm guessing."

Ruth nods. "I can't remember the last time someone tried to take them to court on it. Ever since Lee vs. ChaseVirgin, it's been obvious what would happen if it went up to the Supreme Court. No point in spending the time and money it would take to fight, even if you had it, when the outcome is forgone."

"It's so wrong," Jared says fiercely. "There ought to be something we can do."

"You're doing it," she replies. "You're getting out."

"So why haven't you gotten out?" Jensen asks.

Ruth shakes her head. "It's complicated. But if I can help people like you, then maybe I can do more good here."

Jared starts to reply, but his jaw cracks open on a yawn. "I'm sorry," he says, hand over his mouth.

"Get upstairs." She points overhead. "I can't stay, but you'll be safe here. Come by after dark and we'll verify that the blocker works. Then I'll send you on your way."

"Thank you," Jared says. He takes one of her small hands in both of his. "I can't even tell you how grateful I am."

"Like I said, it's something that I can do." Ruth pats his hand, the metal one, and Jensen's please to see that Jared doesn't even flinch.

They both go upstairs as the front door shuts behind Ruth. The bed is large, and when they peel off the dusty quilt, the sheets look clean enough in the morning light filtering in through the grimy windows. Better than the hay and grass of the last few nights, anyway. Jensen's willing to risk it, and they fall asleep beside each other almost instantly. 

He wakes up mid-day and stumbles downstairs and outside to piss into the overgrown bushes at the back of the yard. The sunlight seems so bright, and he wishes momentarily he'd gotten those sunshade implants he'd looked at a few months ago. _Back when you thought you never go outside long enough to need them_ , he reminds himself. Then again, if he'd had more than a couple of days to prepare to leave his entire life behind, there's a lot of things he'd've done differently. 

Upstairs, he collapses beside Jared again and is out almost as fast as before.

The next time Jensen wakes up, he's way too warm. Jared is half-sprawled over him, right leg and arm pinning him down. He can see the gleam of Jared's aug where it's squished underneath his side. At least it's probably not losing circulation the way a normal arm would. 

Jensen closes his eyes and tries to ignore the excessive heat of Jared's body to instead concentrate on how solid he feels. Anyone who didn't know them would think they were just two random people thrown together, not two people who—

 _Who what?_ Jensen asks himself. _Had a one-night stand after meeting at what's basically a fetish bar? Exchanged a blow job for a hand job? Don't know each other really at all?_

They certainly haven't kissed since that first night, haven't done more than hold hands and exchange heartfelt glances, and that was more for reassurance than anything else. Having to be on high alert even when they're exhausted isn't exactly conducive to romance, or even a quick roll in the hay ( _literally_ , Jensen thinks.) And then there's that nagging concern that their hookup after meeting in the bar was just that—a one-time hookup that Jared needed to blow off some steam after going out into the world for the first time after having his body so dramatically altered. 

Jensen shakes his head and carefully extricates himself from under Jared's limbs. This should be the last of his concerns right now. They have so incredibly far to go, and no idea what's waiting for them at the other end. They need to be able to count on each other to get through this in one piece. Any additional complications have to wait until they're on safer ground.

Downstairs in the kitchen, there's a metal thermos and a brown paper package. Jensen unwraps it to find two ham sandwiches. He scarfs down one and drinks the water from the thermos. It's lukewarm, but it tastes clean like the purified water he's used to collecting from his rooftop, not like something from a private tap. 

Outside, the sun is going down, pink streaks spreading across the horizon. Jensen pushes open the back screen door and goes out to watch it set. Insects are chirping from the edges of the yard, invisible in the tall grass and weeds. It's a bit unnerving, having these other living beings around that he can't see. He could use his implants to look up anything he could want to know about the sounds he hears, but that would take battery power he still has to conserve. He'd been expecting to recharge at the station today, but of course that didn't happen. Wherever they're headed next, he hopes it has electricity.

The screen door creaks behind him, and Jared clomps down the two short steps to the ankle-high grass. "Morning," he says through a mouthful of sandwich. He gestures at the setting sun. "Or, whatever."

"Sleep well?" Jensen asks. He keeps his voice down, with no idea of how close they might be to another house. 

Jared nods enthusiastically, mouth still full of bread and meat. After he chews and swallows, he asks quietly, "You?"

"Best sleep since we left," he says. 

Jared smiles. "Good."

There's a flash of green light a few feet in front of them, and Jensen instantly backs up. "What the hell was that?"

"Haven't you seen fireflies before?" Jared asks.

Jensen blinks. "Maybe when I was a kid," he says. "When we had a house with a yard. That color, though. It's weird."

There's another yellow-green flash off to their left, and Jared claps him on the shoulder. "Just nature, man," he says before taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Could be mini-drones," Jensen mutters. His hand goes up to his temple, checking on his blocker. It hasn't picked up anything worth blocking since they entered town: no 'lims, no broadcasts of any kind. He's pretty sure the blocker would notify him if the high frequencies of a mini-drone scan were coming from the yard around them. He's still itching to get back inside where his detector is, though—and the bugs aren’t.

Jared finishes his sandwich and flicks the crumbs off of his fingers. His metal hand is tucked away in his jacket pocket, which he hadn't been wearing as he slept. It's a little chilly with the sun going down, but Jensen gets that's not the only reason Jared has the jacket on.

He clears his throat. "We should wait a couple of hours," he says in his same low tone. "Nine o'clock or so. Make sure no one sees us wandering through town."

Jared nods. "Want to sit out here?" he asks. "It's going to get pretty dark in there with no power."

They sit on the grass and watch the stars come out. Jensen flinches at the first few fireflies, and he does go inside to get his detector. But when it comes up clean, he relaxes a bit and watches the green lights flickering near the ground and the white pinpricks of light against the velvety-dark sky. Occasionally there's the sound of a car going down the road at the other end of the long driveway. But other than that, it's almost painfully quiet.

Eventually, they make their way back into town, staying along the edge of the road and ready to duck behind bushes or trees if a car approaches. But the road is quiet, and soon they're in Ruth's backyard again. Jared wraps the blocker over his arm just long enough to pass through her archway. This time, she smiles at them. 

Ruth sends them on their way with the thermos full of water and four more sandwiches. She points them north more than west. "You'll be on a small enough road that it's still publicly owned, minimal surveillance. That's how you can cross the Red River. And since that marks the border with Oklahoma, it'll be a good place for you to block the signal from that arm of yours. In terms of telecom, it's AmaSprintbucks territory. They'll think it's a transmission problem from crossing the border, at least long enough for you to get out in front of them."

"Shouldn't we be farther away from here when I block the tracker, though?" Jared asks. "What if they trace it back here?"

"That's a day and half that you'll be walking to get there," she says. "And I'm not sending you on the shortest path."

"Besides, they'll be looking for us more than for you," Jensen says darkly.

"Probably," Ruth agrees. "So you'd best be moving."

Jared gives her a careful hug, engulfing her in his long arms. Jensen shakes her hand, and they're off. 

The landscape gets drier as they go, and eventually Ruth's directions lead them off of the paved roads. That's good because they aren't patrolled or monitored as often; it's bad because the two of them are soon coated in a fine layer of red dust. As good as it was to sleep on a bed, they didn't get to wash up, and now Jensen can feel the sweat trickling down his neck mixing with that dust, probably forming a red crust on his skin.

"How do you clean your arm, anyway?" he asks.

They'd been walking in silence for a while, and Jared gives a little start. "Oh!" he says, running his other hand through his hair. "Um. It's sealed up pretty tight, so I can shower with it like normal. Which means it probably should be safe from the dust out here, too."

"That's good," Jensen says. "I mean, I'm good with my hands, but I'm not usually working with something so sensitive."

There's a strangled noise from beside him, and he looks to see Jared suppressing a smirk. "Shut up," he says, elbowing Jared in the side.

"You shut up," Jared retorts, elbowing him back.

They keep lightly shoving each other as they walk down the dirt road, and Jensen inexplicably feels a grin welling up. He's not _happy_ , exactly, not given the danger and uncertainty they're facing. But he's kind of enjoying himself, at least at the moment, and that's about all he can ask for right now.

They cross the river without any incident, and Jensen ties the cloth around Jared's arm. By mutual if unspoken agreement, they move faster for a few hours, heading away from the river in a zig-zag pattern rather than a straight line in case there are already security forces out. But the night passes without incident, and when they curl up that morning in another abandoned barn, Jensen's able to relax enough to sleep when it's his turn.

 

Of course, the good feelings don't last for long.

They're a couple of days north of the border. Jared's got the cloth tied tightly around his upper arm, and he's down to checking on it every hour or so instead of every few minutes. Jensen's had his scanners on high alert, checking both public and dark news feeds every few hours to see if Jared's being mentioned. Still nothing, and he's started to think that Ruth had been wrong about the tracker. 

He knows there's a small city off to the west, and they'll have to skirt it before making the big turn in a westerly direction on the way to their next station. It's about two in the morning, and both of them have the collars of their jackets turned up against the sharp wind in their faces. It might be October in Oklahoma, but winter is headed their way, and it's only going to get worse from here on out. Jensen might have to risk it and hit a store soon for gloves and some extra layers, as long as he doesn't see any ferrets watching his accounts.

When they reach a crossroads, Jared turns left and starts down the paved road.

"Whoa, wait." Jensen catches up to him and grabs his right arm. "We're not supposed to turn yet. Past the ranch with the double bar something."

"No, we have to go this way," Jared says, his voice quiet but sure. He's frowning, forehead scrunched up into parallel lines. "They're waiting for us."

A cold chill slides down Jensen's back that has nothing to do with the wind. "Who's waiting for us?" he asks carefully, even as he reaches up to his temple.

Jared gestures vaguely down the road. "We have to go this way."

"Hold on a sec." Jensen keeps his hand wrapped around Jared's flesh-and-bone bicep while he slowly, carefully, dials down his blocker. Down closer to his jaw, he taps on another implant that he managed to install before they left, one that catches the 'lims as they wash through the air and converts them into audible messages. He didn't feel the need for the catcher in the city, but he's suddenly very glad he put it in.

It doesn't take long before he hears it. It's a low frequency, designed for emergency services who need people to clear an accident site. It's saying over and over, "Jared Padalecki, turn west until you reach AmaSprintbucks Interstate 44. Wait there for instructions. Jared Padalecki, turn west until you—"

Jensen slams the blocker all the way up, hands suddenly shaking. He's heard rumors of the police using frequencies like this to get suspects to turn themselves in, but they were never rumors that he believed. This is undeniable, though. It makes him wonder how many other things he'd dismissed as fearmongering are really going on.

But right now, he has bigger problems. He brings his hands up to Jared's face, cupping his cheeks. "Jared, can you hear me?"

Jared blinks and slowly focuses on him. "Of course I can."

"All right. Good." Jensen draws in a deep breath. "Do you trust me?"

Jared nods almost right away, and Jensen feels a little thrill. He says carefully, "You're hearing a subliminal message, Jared. This is not the way we're supposed to go. We need to keep heading north."

Jared's still frowning, but there's recognition dawning in his eyes. "We're not supposed to go west," he says slowly.

"No, we're not," Jensen replies. "Can you do what I say? Can you follow me?"

Jared squeezes his eyes shut. When he opens them, he's looking at Jensen more clearly than before. "Yes, I can."

"Okay. Then let's go." He grabs Jared's hand and walks them back to the crossroads. Looking in both directions for vehicles and finding the road as blessedly empty as before, he turns left, the way they'd been headed.

"I thought you said we were supposed to go north," Jared says. He comes to a stop. "But we should be going west."

"Not right now," Jensen says, tugging on his hand. "Trust me, remember?"

Jared still looks confused, but he lets Jensen lead him down the paved road. It's more trust than Jensen feels he's earned, but he's not going to question it. 

They walk for half an hour, past two more dirt crossroads. Jensen calls up the map in his head, closes his eyes to concentrate on it better. The geo-tracer shows that they're not that far out of their way right now, and there's no major town or even a minor one ahead. The 'lim could be coming from Lawton, to the northwest, or Oklahoma City to the north. It'll be threading a needle to go between the two of them, but then they can—

"Shit." Jensen comes to a halt on the shoulder of the road.

"What is it?" Jared asks.

"The 'lim. It's driving you towards the interstate that runs north and south. But then it bends northeast, and then it hits Oklahoma City. We can't go that way." Jensen rubs a hand over his face. "We'll have to swing east, all the way around Oklahoma City. That'll add a few days before we can turn west again, but it's better safe than sorry."

Jared stares at him. "But why do we need to go west? We need to be heading east, to Interstate 35."

Dread rising in his gut, Jensen once more dials down his blocker. He hears the same message as before, this time instructing Jared to go the opposite direction. And when he consults the map, he sees that the two roads intersect, which means they're trapped in the middle.

"Shit!" He turns the blocker way up, wishing it projected far enough for it to protect Jared as well. "We can't go that way, either."

Jared puts his hands over his ears. "Maybe I can concentrate enough to block it out."

"They'll have patrols out on the highways, looking for you to respond to the 'lim." Jensen grimaces. "Damn it!"

"Maybe I shouldn't've covered up the tracker," Jared says. "At least they'd be leaving us alone then."

"And endangering anyone else we might encounter," Jensen replies. "It's not your fault, Jared. They're not supposed to be able to get into your head like this." He sighs. "We're gonna have to go back."

They turn and retrace their steps, Jensen tugging Jared along when he seems reluctant to continue south at every crossroad they pass. He seems less and less distracted, though, and by the time the first rays of dawn are breaking over the horizon, he's trudging along beside Jensen without complaint.

When they reach another dirt road heading east-west, Jared keeps plowing on southward. Jensen grins and claps him on the back. "Guess we're out of range."

"Out of range?"

Jensen frowns. "The 'lims. You're not still hearing them, are you?"

"How would I know if I was?" Jared retorts.

Holding up a hand, Jensen eases down on his blocker a third time. He doesn't hear Jared's name anymore, doesn't hear anything except the wind whistling in his ears and reminding him that all of the hard-earned steps they took into it today will have to be repeated once they can finally head north again.

"We're good," he says. "No one's trying to misdirect you anymore."

"Good." Jared closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath.

Then he leans to the side and promptly throws up.

"Jesus." Jensen pats his back, not sure what else to do. "You okay?"

Jared holds up his metal hand with a slight wave. Jensen keeps rubbing circles on his back, and finally he stands up. "They were in my head, Jensen. They were trying to control my fucking _mind_. How the hell am I supposed to fight that?"

"We need to get you a blocker," Jensen says. "Probably won't be as strong as mine, but it'll have to do."

Jared holds out his hands and spins around, indicating the emptiness around them. "Where are we supposed to get one of those? From the cows?"

"I'll work on it," Jensen says, tapping his temple. "If you're right, and folks out here are just as eager for tech even if they're in the middle of nowhere, someone ought to be able to help us out. Ruth's probably not the only one who came out here to avoid something and stay hidden."

"But where are we going to go?" Jared asks. "How are we supposed to get out of this trap?"

"By walking back out of it," Jensen says. "They think we're headed north. If we backtrack, we'll be out of the range of their 'lims. We can bypass Wichita Falls and end up close to where we were supposed to be."

"That's probably two extra weeks of walking," Jared says.

Jensen shrugs one shoulder. "Guess we'd better get some rest."

Jared stares at him. "How can you be so—how can you just take this on and keep going?"

"Because we have no choice." He takes Jared's flesh-and-blood hand in his. It's cold, and Jensen puts both of his hands around it, rubbing warmth into it. "Besides, I'm sure once we get to the next station and have a moment to relax, I'm gonna freak about this as much as you are, okay?" That gets him a tiny smile, and he leans forward to wrap his arms around Jared.

Jared embraces him back, and they stand there for a moment, sharing warmth and comfort and reassurance.

They bed down in the same place they slept the night before, a half-rotted cabin that probably had all sorts of creatures crawling through it before they'd come along. Jensen insists on taking first watch, and Jared slumps onto the bare wooden floor without a complaint. 

By the time the sun sets, Jensen has gotten in a little bit of dozing, but that's all. His stomach is growling after only a piece of jerky, his water bottle is empty, and he's used up the first of his two spare batteries. Jared wakes up to find it getting dark and glares at him. "You were supposed to wake me up for my shift."

"Couldn't be sure they wouldn't have put up more 'lims in the meantime," Jensen replies.

"You mean you don't trust me," Jared snaps.

"I mean I don't trust _them_ ," Jensen retorts. "I think we've already established that they're going to do everything they can to get you back." He leans closer to Jared. "And I'm not going to let them."

"You need to sleep," Jared insists.

Jensen shrugs. "I've pulled more all-nighters than I can count when a client needed a job done. I can handle it for a day."

Jared shakes his head at him, but Jensen knows there's nothing he can do. Night has fallen, and they need to get moving.

They walk south for the night, hungry and thirsty. About midnight, they come across a tiny church, just off the road. There's no sign out front, just a cross in lieu of a steeple. The moon is faint behind the clouds tonight, but they can make out the peeling paint and untrimmed bushes that suggest the congregation isn't doing so great.

"Think it's open?" Jared asks.

Jensen pulls out his detector. "Electricity's on," he says. There's probably still a congregation, at least.

The door is open, which isn't surprising considering how out in the middle of nowhere they are. Cautiously peeking inside, they see a small building that's really more a chapel than a church. But there's running water in the bathroom, and a box of granola bars in the one-cupboard kitchen that Jensen doesn't feel too bad about taking. Churches are supposed to help people, he reasons, and they definitely need help.

He makes them wait about an hour while he recharges his implants and his spare battery. Jared tries to insist that he sleep, but he can't do that while recharging. He does kind of doze sitting up against the wall, though, watching Jared pick up hymnals and Bibles from the half-dozen pews and flip through them before putting them back.

"What day is it?" Jared finally asks.

Jensen consults the calendar in his head. "Friday night. Saturday morning."

"So they won't be coming in here just yet," Jared replies. He sits down on one of the pews. "God, I'm so hungry."

"Sometimes eating something reminds you of how hungry you are more than it fills you up," Jensen agrees. He's back up to full power, at least electronically speaking, and he stands up. "Time to keep moving."

It's easier to keep going now with their water bottles full and at least something in their stomachs. They'll definitely have to risk a store at some point, given how much longer it's going to take them to get to the next station than expected. Jensen hasn't had any of his alarms tripped, so his throwaway accounts should still be good. But there's the added complication of needing money for Jared's blocker, and he has no idea what the going rate for that might be, assuming they can find someone to install one in the back of nowhere.

They camp within sight of the Red River, in a copse of trees just off the road. Jensen lets Jared take first watch, and he wakes up feeling refreshed after only a few hours. "Anything?" he asks.

Jared shakes his head. "No mysterious urges to go anywhere," he replies. "I think we're still out of range."

They cross the river again and veer southwest. They bypass Ruth's little town, and Jensen sets an alarm to notify him if his blocker is getting any hits. They'll have to skirt around the city as close as they can without running into 'lims or worse.

In the meantime, he's found something that might work. Two nights' walk away, there's a little town on the far outskirts of Wichita Falls. He's sent out messages to his most trusted contacts, and one of them tells him about a tattoo parlor that does all sorts of body mods, including implants. It'll probably cost him a pretty franc, but they can't risk Jared walking them right into the arms of his conglom if a 'lim pops up out of nowhere.

When he tells Jared about it, his first reaction is skepticism. "How do you know you can trust this person?"

"I trust the person who told me about them," Jensen replies. "They've done some work for me, I've done some work for them. They wouldn't recommend someone they didn't trust."

"This friend: do they know where you are?" Jared asks. "Like, that you're on the run?"

"They know I'm not in Dallas, or I wouldn't have asked for the info. That's it."

Jared rubs at the skin behind his ear. Jensen can't tell if it's a conscious gesture or not. "I don't know," he says quietly. "I mean, I know that I should. I can't rely on you to catch everything, and I sure as hell need you to be able to sleep without worrying that I'm going to go wandering off."

"But…?" Jensen probes.

Jared lets out a huff of breath and holds up his left arm, the moonlight glinting off his fingers. "It's like this all over again. It's like I don't have a choice."

Stung, Jensen draws his head back. "Is that how you think of this?" _Of me?_ he adds in his head.

Jared stops and grabs his hand. "No, not really. I mean, it's not something you're doing to me on purpose—or that anyone is doing to me on purpose. It's just, I don't know, I feel like I don't want to lose anything else, you know?"

"This isn't losing anything," Jensen says. "It's not like you're removing part of your skull. The implant just sits under the skin and interfaces with the nervous system."

Jared gives a tiny shiver.

Something occurs to Jensen, and he looks at Jared more closely. "You're not a Purist, are you?"

"No," Jared says quickly. "It's not that." 

"Didn't think so," Jensen mutters. Anyone who has religious objections to body modifications like his probably wouldn't have even talked to him at the bar, much less gone home with him, but you never know.

"It's just—" Jared sighs. "Blockers are illegal."

Jensen's eyebrows shoot up. " _That's_ what you're worried about? At this point?"

"It means I can never go back!" Jared's voice rings out over the silent countryside around them. "I can't work where I used to, and I can't pass the scan tests to work anywhere else. This is _it_." 

Jared's hand is still wrapped around his, and Jensen shifts his hand around so he can grasp Jared's fingers in his. "You already knew that," he says quietly, looking Jared in the eye. "You're a smart guy."

Jared shakes his head. "I knew it in my head, but not…not really." With his augmented hand, he taps his chest, over his heart. "Not here."

Nodding, Jensen says, "I get that. And I'm sorry, Jared. I'm so sorry that you can't go home."

"You can't go home either. And that's all because of me." Jared looks even more stricken than before.

"Not all because of you." Jensen shakes his head. "I told you, I've been messing around on the sidelines and telling myself I was making a difference just by living outside the system. I don't think that's enough anymore. But I can't do what I want to do to fight that system and live here. That's why I'm going with you."

Jared nods with a sniffle. "I should do it, huh?"

"I think it'll make you feel safer." Jensen reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind Jared's ear, briefly touching the skin behind it. "You won't even notice it's there, honest. I'll teach you how to use it, and you'll be amazed at what a difference it makes."

With a wistful smile, Jared says, "I think you could talk me into just about anything, Jensen."

That puts a strange, warm feeling in the pit of Jensen's stomach. To avoid acknowledging it, he waggles his eyebrows with an exaggerated leer. That puts the smile on Jared's face that he was hoping for, and he squeezes Jared's hand before letting go. 

The rest of the night passes without incident, as do the day and night after that. They finally hole up for the day within a few hours' walk of the tattoo parlor where they're headed. Jensen takes first watch, yawning but alert. The shed they're in is way at the back of a property that looks abandoned but might just be poorly-kept. There aren't any cars in the driveway or garage, but Jensen needs to keep a close eye out just in case. 

It's about ten o'clock when Jared jerks upright, eyes wide open. "Jensen, we have to go," he says firmly.

Jensen's been doing nothing other than watching Jared sleep on the dirt floor, so it takes him a moment to respond. "What do you mean?" he asks even as he's running though his scanners and blockers to see what Jared's found that he missed.

By the time he realizes that Jared couldn't have found anything, because he doesn't have the implants Jensen does, Jared has already stood up and is opening the door.

"Wait!" Jensen scrambles after him, grabbing his arm. It's his left arm, and he has to tug hard on it to get Jared to turn around. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, we have to go," Jared says. "We should already be there."

"Go where?" Jensen asks, even as he's checking in with his catcher.

He gets the answer from Jared at the same time that he hears the message. "Back to Dallas," Jared says. "As soon as we can."

"Shit." Jensen rubs his hand over his jaw. "Okay, Jared, we can't go back to Dallas." He lightly shakes the augmented arm. "Remember? We just had this conversation. You can't go back."

Jared frowns. "You said I can't go home, right?"

"That's right." Jensen nods as encouragingly as he can. "You need to sleep now, all right? Just sleep." He tugs on Jared's arm, pulling him in and reaching out to close the shed door.

Jared obediently lies back down, eyes closed. Jensen kneels at his side, heart thumping and stomach churning. He liked how much bigger than him Jared was when they first met, but it's not exactly ideal in this context. Not if Jared thinks that he needs to go no matter what Jensen says.

Sure enough, in a moment, he's trying to get up again. Jensen leans over him, one hand on his chest. "You need to stay here, Jared. No matter what someone else is telling you."

"No one's telling me anything," Jared mutters. He tries to sit up, and Jensen presses harder. "Let me go, Jensen."

"You need to stay here," Jensen repeats. " _Please_ , Jared. Can you do that for me?"

Jared blinks up at him. "You asked me that before," he says slowly. Suddenly, his expression changes from confusion to terror. "It's happening again, isn't it?"

Jensen nods grimly.

"Fuck." Jared brings his hands up to cover his face, shoulders trembling. "I can't take this anymore."

"Yes, you can." Jensen leans closer, stretching out so that he's plastered against Jared's side, arms and legs wrapping around him. The ground is cold beneath him, but Jared's body is nice and warm. "I'm here, Jared, all right? I've got you."

"Can we go right now?" Jared asks, his voice muffled. "To the tattoo parlor?"

"Gotta wait till it's dark." Jensen smoothes the hair off Jared's face and gently pries his fingers away until he's looking into Jared's eyes. "You can make it, Jared. I swear."

Jared draws a deep, shuddering breath before looking away. "Don't let me go," he says quietly.

"I won't," Jensen promises.

 

Jared makes it through the rest of the day by not taking his gaze off of his hand and arm, as if reminding himself of what's waiting for him if he gives into the 'lims and goes back. By the time night falls, he's exhausted, as is Jensen from keeping watch over him, but he's calm and determined.

When they find their way to the shop, an hour before its posted closing time, and explain what they want, the petite, dark-haired woman behind the counter raises her eyebrows. "That kind of thing's illegal," she says.

"Beaming commands into someone's head is supposed to be illegal, too," Jared snaps back. 

Her eyebrows go higher. "So two wrongs make a right?"

"Two wrongs and a whole bunch of francs," Jensen replies. He leans forward on his elbows on the counter. "Rumor is, you know what you're doing, how to provide a good service and keep it hidden. But if the rumors are wrong, well…" He straightens up, hoping that Jared is willing to follow his bluff.

"I know what I'm doing," she retorts. She looks Jensen up and down, takes in the faint shimmer on his wrist that he's deliberately kept out-turned. When she names a price, it's more or less what Jensen expected, despite the faint gasp he hears from Jared. "I'll need you to transfer the credits up front," she says.

"Half now, half when it's done," Jensen returns.

She sighs. "Fine." Then she sticks her hand across the counter. "Name's Genevieve."

"Nice to meet you," Jensen says, shaking her hand. He tilts his wrist upward for her scanner. He accessed one of his backup accounts earlier that day to make sure it had the amount of funds he expected this to take. The faint beep tells him that half of that is gone. He'll have to transfer a bit more while the work's going on to cover the rest. "Let's go," he says, putting a hand on Jared's back.

It's a lot different watching someone else get an implant than getting it done yourself. Jared is completely stoic, staring across the room from the bench he's seated on as Genevieve administers a local anesthetic and shaves away a patch of hair behind his ear. Jensen's impressed when she shaves away the same spot on the other side for the sake of symmetry. It indicates a certain attention to detail, and he finds himself relaxing a notch.

Jared only flinches once, when she slips the thick needle under his skin to insert the chip. Jensen grabs his hand and squeezes. It's only then that he realizes he's got Jared's metal fingers in his, but he holds on anyway. Jared squeezes back, gaze still locked across the room and jaw set tight.

The tough thing about inserting a blocker is getting it in just the right spot. If it doesn't line up with the right set of nerves to interfere with the neural pathways, it's just a piece of metal sitting under the skin. The first time Jensen got one, he spent months researching the right person to get it from, searching for satisfied and unsatisfied customers—not an easy thing to do, since the work was illegal. Here, they're going off third-hand endorsements gathered in a handful of days. It makes him nervous, but he can't let Jared see it. They need to get this done, and it needs to work. That's all there is to it.

"All right." Genevieve steps back and strips off her gloves. "You want to give that a test? It'll get stronger after a few days once all the neural connections set in, but it's about eighty-five percent of the way there already."

Jared blinks. "That's it?"

"That's it," she says. Then she frowns. "Were you expecting something else?"

"Aw, he didn't want to know ahead of time what it would take in case it freaked him out, and I didn't have the heart to tell him it wouldn't take more than a few minutes." Jensen claps a hand on Jared's shoulder. That _had_ gone pretty quickly, which is either the sign of someone highly competent or half-assing it. "You all right?"

Jared nods. "Yeah, I'm…fine. Can we test it?"

The blocker isn't as strong as Jensen's, but it catches most of what Genevieve throws at it. Jensen keeps his blocker on low to make sure he can sense what she's testing Jared with, and he's pleased to realize her speed was from competence. At his request, she even tries some emergency frequencies, though she does raise an eyebrow at that.

Jared frowns. "I can still hear it," he says. "It's a request to move out of the way for a fire truck, right?"

"That's good," Genevieve says. "The point is, you can _hear_ it, and then you can choose how to react. A 'lim isn't something you're consciously going to sense. With the blocker, you can either shut them out entirely, or partially. What I gave you isn't strong enough to shut out emergency frequencies, but that would take more than a few hours to set up." 

"This is fine," Jensen says. "Really, thank you. It's tremendously helpful."

For answer, she pointedly looks at his wrist. Jensen sighs and holds it out for her to scan and transfer the rest of the francs in his account.

Once Genevieve has given Jared the aftercare instructions for his new implant, she crosses her arms over her chest and stares at the both of them. "You guys look like you could really use some rest."

"We're fine," Jensen says. They'll have lost at least a week by the time they get to the next station, and that could be enough to throw off the whole schedule. The chain of stations depends on careful timing, and while there's some flexibility, there are also times when traveling onward is no longer possible. They need to get moving, but at least it'll be easier now that he doesn't have to watch for Jared metaphorically throwing himself into traffic.

"There's a cot in the back," she says. "I can wake you in a few hours."

Despite himself, Jensen looks at Jared. Jared is obviously trying to look like he's alert and ready to go, but his eyelids are drooping shut and he's almost swaying on his feet.

Jensen sighs. "Four hours," he says. "Nothing more."

"Four hours," Genevieve replies.

They go into the small back office, where a cot sits pushed up against the wall. There's no way it will fit both of them, but Jensen's tired enough that even the floor sounds great.

"Can we trust her?" Jared asks as he lies down on the cot, careful not to lie down on the fresh wound behind his ear.

"She'd get in as much trouble as we would, given some of the shit in here." Jensen gestures at the office around them. There are blockers as sophisticated as his, plus neural webs, sensory adaptors, and a whole host of other things he would love to have a closer look at. "I think by letting us back here, she's telling us it's safe."

"If you think it's okay, then." Jared gives a huge yawn and rolls onto his side. 

Jensen sets up his chargers, lies down on the floor, and is out within minutes.

All too soon, Genevieve is there to wake them up. Jared looks as groggy as Jensen feels, but there's nothing to be done about it. They need to get moving.

Jared adjusts the dark blue cloth tied around his upper arm, and Jensen rubs his eyes. Genevieve hadn't asked about it, even though it obviously stood out; one more sign that she knew what she was doing. It's this observation that makes him ask her, "There's something else we might need your help with."

She rolls her eyes. "I'm already up past my bedtime."

"And we appreciate it," Jensen says. "We know you're good at putting in blockers. What about taking out trackers?"

"You wore a _tracker_ to my place?" she demands, hands on her hips.

"No, we didn't." Jared holds up his hands. "It's covered, I promise."

She glances at the wrapping around his arm. "You wouldn't have gotten past the front counter if I'd detected it, anyway.

Jensen says, "It's blocked for now, but it would be a lot easier if we could get it removed."

Jared loudly clears his throat. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

Genevieve graciously steps out of her own office, and Jared turns on Jensen. "You're potentially talking major surgery, Jensen. We don't know how far the tracker is buried, or how well it's integrated into the arm. If she screws it up, I won't be able to use it at all."

"And maybe that cloth will slide off when we don't notice it. You can bet your ass they'll sweep in as soon as your little dot activates on their screen." Jensen sighs. "I don't like it either, but we have to. If we can."

"'We'," Jared echoes, but not harshly. He lets out a long breath. "Fine. We can ask."

When Genevieve returns, Jared clears his throat. "So here's the thing. I have a Class 1 aug that has a tracker I didn't know was in it. I want it out. Can you do it?"

"No," she replies flatly.

They both sigh, and Jensen's stomach drops. 

She taps a finger against her chin. "I do know someone who can take a look at it, though. If you can wait until morning."

Jensen exchanges a look with Jared. "Can we wait here?" he asks Genevieve.

"Sure. Get some more sleep if you want." 

"You aren't worried about leaving us here?" Jared asks, gesturing at the electronics spread out across the workbench.

"Honey, anyone who has a surprise tracker in their Class 1 didn't want the aug to be there in the first place. You're not the first person I've met in this situation. You're trying to lay as low as humanly possible, which does not include stealing from the person who just put illegal technology in your head." Genevieve smiles brightly. "Make sense?"

They both nod, and she says, "Good. I'll be back in the morning."

The few extra hours still aren't enough for a real night of sleep, but it's the closest either of them has had in days. When Genevieve comes back, she's got bottled water and cellophane-wrapped muffins for each of them. "Come on," she says when they're done eating.

They follow her out of the office and to a set of stairs leading down into the dark. It's not until they reach the bottom that she flicks on the light, and they see what looks like a doctor's waiting room. There's no one in it, but the semi-comfortable chairs, artificial plants, and honest-to-god paper magazines look like something out of an old movie.

"Wait here," Genevieve says, crossing the room and disappearing behind a door.

Jensen picks up the nearest magazine. It's a cooking magazine, the cover suggesting that you can learn how to make your own jams and preserves, brew your own beer, and hide a hydroponic farm in an abandoned barn. It's all stuff he knows—well, except the strawberry jam recipe—but he can't imagine someone writing it down and leaving it out in the open like this.

"Railroad Monthly," Jared reads from the cover of another magazine. "The most comfortable stations, the safest routes to the coast. Is this for real?"

"Not exactly."

They turn to see a tall, red-haired woman in the doorway, Genevieve right behind her. "I work on them in my spare time," she goes on. "Something to keep my clients entertained."

"So this is all made up?" Jared asks, shaking "Railroad Monthly" back and forth.

"God, of course," she replies. "I don't have anything to do with the Railroad."

"Then what do you do?" Jensen asks.

She smiles. "I help people with their problems."

Genevieve rolls her eyes. "Could you be more vague and mysterious, Dani?"

"I could try," she replies, pursing her lips.

"Can you help us?" Jared asks sharply. "Can you help me?"

She turns serious. "I need to know more details before I can answer that."

Jared shoves his sleeve up to his elbow and holds up his artificial arm. "This is a Class 1 aug. Goes all the way to the shoulder. It has a tracker in it which was detected after we left—where we're from." He catches himself and goes on, "It's currently being blocked, but we need it out."

Dani comes forward and reaches out towards Jared's arm. "May I?" When he nods, she touches his forearm, running her hand over the surface, gently turning it this way and that. "It's up here?" she asks, indicating the blue cloth tied around Jared's upper arm without touching it.

He nods. "Blocking it definitely got a response."

She looks at him sharply, but doesn't ask. "My operating room is sealed," she says. "Hyper-blocked. No one will notice once we take the cloth off."

"You're a doctor?" Jensen asks.

"In a manner of speaking." She holds out her hand. "Name's Danneel."

Jensen shakes her hand silently, and Jared does as well. "What manner of speaking?" Jensen asks.

"No medical degree or training," she cheerfully replies. "But then, I don't work with human flesh."

"That tends to be my area," Genevieve says. "That's how I help people like you two."

"Can you take it out?" Jensen demands. "Can you get rid of this tracker?"

"Probably," she replies. "I can't tell you without seeing the aug how likely it is that it retains full functionality."

"I don't care," Jared replies. "Whatever you have to do."

Danneel raises an eyebrow. "Then yes, I can give it a shot. As long as we take care of one thing. Seems that account of yours got emptied out upstairs," she says to Jensen.

"I've got others," he replies coolly.

Jared starts, "Jensen, you can't—"

"Of course I can," he replies. "It won't matter how many francs I have if they track us down. Not at this point."

"It won't be as much as the implant," Danneel says. "If that helps. Look at it this way—now that you're under our roof, it's in our best interest to get that thing out and destroyed. I do need to cover expenses, but I'm not going to make it so expensive you can't do it. We sure as hell don't want anyone sniffing around here after you've left."

"That we can agree on," Jared says. He pushes his sleeve back down. "Can we get started?"

"Lucky for you, there's nothing on the calendar today," Danneel replies. She gestured towards the door behind her. "Ready?"

When Jensen starts forward to follow, Danneel puts a manicured hand on his chest. "Not you," she says. "There's barely room for three in the operating room, and I need Gen to assist."

"I'll be fine," Jared says with a quick, small smile.

Jensen hesitates. This is more serious than the implant, and as trustworthy as these two women seem, he hates to let Jared out of his sight. Then he realizes that Jared might not want him there, not if his entire aug is going to be poked and prodded, and he takes a step back. "I'll be here," he says. 

For the first hour, he reads through the fake magazines scattered around the room. After that, he tries to check in with his networks but soon realizes the entire basement must be shielded. No signal is getting through, and he's torn between wanting to go upstairs to see if there's any news and wanting to stay here for Jared. So the second hour is spent pacing around the waiting room and trying to make up his mind.

It's been over two and a half hours when Genevieve comes out. She's wearing a white apron streaked with black grease, long hair tied back and a smudge on one cheek. "It worked," she says. "Danneel's putting everything back together. Looks like he's going to retain full functionality with the aug."

Jensen gives a sigh of relief. "And you're sure you found the tracker? And that there was only one?"

"Oh, we found it," she says. "Never seen one so tiny, though. Danneel's already excited about taking it apart and figuring out how to enhance our detectors."

He gives her a small smile. "Thank you. Both of you. You have no idea how much this means to us."

"Pretty sure we do," she says, returning the smile. Then she taps her wrist. "But there are standard ways of showing gratitude for a job well done."

"Soon as I can get a signal and move some funds around, I'll be happy to pay," he says.

To his surprise, she grins. "Good to know the shielding works. You've got fancy enough hardware, I was a little concerned something might get through."

"What kind of shielding do you have?" Jensen asks.

They spend the rest of the time waiting for Jared talking shop: comparing ways to block satellite signals as opposed to drive-bys, how often to refresh equipment, doorway vs. roof-mounted scans, things like that. Jensen is actually enjoying himself by the time Jared comes in.

Then he notices that Jared looks a little paler than before. "You okay?" he asks.

"Fine." Jared nods. "It's not really like surgery, but it kind of is, I guess."

"It's a very advanced aug," Danneel says. "Very well-integrated nerves and motor control. That's part of why it took so long."

"Nerves." Jensen grabs Jared's other arm. "Are you in pain?"

"Not now," Jared says. 

He glares at Danneel. "How much did you hurt him?"

"Relax," she says. "Local anesthetic on the shoulder took care of it. It's just going to be sore for a few days."

"I'm fine," Jared repeats. "Really. I'm tired, but it feels so good to know that thing is out of me. I always wondered if there was something there, even if they told me there wasn't." 

"It's definitely gone now," Danneel says. She pats Jared's back. "You did good. You're gonna be okay, I think."

"Thank you so much," Jared says to her and to Genevieve. "Not just for this," he gestures at his arm, "but for everything."

"All part of the spectacular customer service," Genevieve replies with a wink. "Don't forget to rate us on your favorite dark web rating sites."

Jensen rolls his eyes, even if he secretly appreciates her humor. "Thanks," he says, shaking their hands once again.

 

They can skirt the city a little more closely, now. Jensen creates another dummy account, burying it even deeper than the previous ones he's used, and decides to risk a stop in an actual store. It's a ratty-looking convenience store, part of a chain that's owned by a conglom somewhere up the line, but the kind of place where the individual franchisee may or may not be hooked into the system. Still, he keeps his sunglasses on and head down, paying for his jerky and chocolate protein bars, plus the yogurt energy drink Jared had pleaded for.

Their packs are stuffed with high-energy, not exactly high-nutritional foods as they trudge away from the store. It'll be a few more nights of travel until they'll reach the station where they were originally headed, and maximizing calorie density was the main shopping objective. 

Jared smacks his lips when he's done with the drink. "Man, that's awesome," he says. "We would drink so many of these at work. They're like a meal in one, so you didn't even have to leave your workstation at lunchtime."

Jensen raises his eyebrows. "And that's a positive feature?"

"You haven't worked in an office for a while, have you?" Jared asks.

"Not since the Crash," Jensen replies. "Shit like that is exactly why."

"Well, not all of us had the ability or the option to drop off the grid," Jared replies.

"Not judging," Jensen says, holding up his hands. "Just…it's kind of sad."

Jared waves at him with his metal hand, and Jensen winces. Like there wasn't already enough evidence of how badly Jared was treated by his employer. It's good to have the reminder, though. There's so very far yet to go until the border, and any jolt of motivation is welcome. 

As they go, Jensen occasionally lowers his blocker to check for messages, teaching Jared how to do the same. Once in a while after they re-cross the state border, there's still an alert for Jared to turn himself in. But they're on the right side of the interstate now, no longer trapped between two converging roads, and those messages eventually fade. Jensen's shoulders have developed tight knots from where he's been tensing them up; maybe now they can fade away, too.

It's drier out here than where they were before, the vegetation shorter and sparser. Fortunately, the roads are also emptier than they were, because there aren't many places to hide if a car does come by. One morning, they have to keep walking well into daylight because there's nowhere to crash, no abandoned buildings or even copses of trees. 

Finally, though, they make it to the somewhat ambitiously-named town of Mountain Park. It's as flat as a table, and there's nothing resembling a park, but the small red house at the southwest edge of town is exactly where it's supposed to be, and the blonde woman behind the front door lets them inside almost as soon as they knock.

"You were supposed to be here weeks ago," she says as soon as they're inside.

"Had to take the scenic route," Jensen replies. It's an hour past sunrise, and his neck has been prickling the whole time, feeling eyes on him even if they didn't see anyone on the road into town.

"Is it okay?" Jared asks. "Can you still help us?"

"It's fine," she replies. "I'm Sam, by the way." She holds out a hand. "Don't need to know who you are."

"Pleased to meet you," Jared says with a dimpled grin as he shakes her hand.

"Likewise," she replies. "You look like you're about to fall over, the both of you."

"I think that's accurate," Jensen says as he shakes her hand.

"Well, there's a bed upstairs for you, and a shower if you need it." She eyes them more closely. "Or I can make up the second bed, too."

Jared darts a look at Jensen before saying, "One bed is fine."

Jensen lets the corner of his mouth turn up, and he can see Jared's shoulders relax.

They haven't showered in days, but Jared's generous enough to let Jensen go first. It's on the tip of his tongue to ask if he wants to share, but he still hasn't seen the full length of Jared's augmented arm, and he's not going to push it. So he gladly takes the first shower and promises himself he'll make it up to Jared later.

Jensen feels bad dropping his dirty clothes on Sam's clean floor, much less taking her up on her offer to do laundry for them. But Jared couldn't bring much more than a single change of clothes or his pack would have looked suspiciously large. Jensen hasn't done much better, needing space for his chargers and detectors in his bag. So their dust-and-sweat-caked clothes are definitely filthy. Genevieve probably burned the cot after they left, he thinks with a chuckle.

Jensen's pretty sure a shower has never felt so good. Still, he keeps it short, not wanting to use more water than necessary in case it causes a spike in Sam's usage records. He's read about the old-time backpackers who followed the Leave No Trace model, and he's adapted that to his own non-wilderness setting. It only makes sense to carry it out here, so no one knows about the strangers passing through.

He intends to wait up for Jared, but once he's rolled under the clean sheets, he's out like a light. He wakes up once in the late afternoon, sun slanting through the blinds, to feel the solid weight of Jared's aug over his waist and the long line of Jared's body down his back. It feels nice, and Jensen closes his eyes and sinks back into it. 

When he wakes again, he's no longer curled up in front of Jared, but he's still not alone in the bed. Jared has rolled onto his back, aug sprawled out to his left, metal hand and translucent forearm an odd contrast to the pale pink sheets. Jensen quickly looks away, feeling oddly shy about looking at someone who's dick he's already had in his mouth. That seems like a lifetime ago right now.

There's a knock at the door, and Jensen reaches over to pull the covers over Jared's arm. They're both mostly dressed under the sheets, but he'd just as soon their guest not see any more than she has to. He slips out of bed and pads to the door.

When he opens it, Sam has a tray with two sandwiches. "Hungry?" she asks.

Jensen's stomach rumbles in response, and he gives her a sheepish grin. "Guess so," he replies softly.

"Me too," Jared mutters from behind him.

Sam's eyes dart down Jensen's bare chest and then back up. "I can leave these here," she says, hefting the tray.

"We should probably talk," Jensen says, stepping back to invite her into the room. "About the next step."

"You don't have to go anywhere just yet," she replies. "In fact, it's best if you stay here a few days. The next stage is on a cycle that isn't coming around just yet."

That sounds odd, but before Jensen can comment on it, Jared says, "Sounds good to me," and burrows under the pillows.

"You sure it won't cause a problem?" Jensen asks. "None of your neighbors are going to notice your guests?"

"No, it's not a problem." Sam shrugs one shoulder. "They're used to it."

That same warning prickle starts up at the back of Jensen's neck. "What does _that_ mean?"

"It means everyone knows I have visitors every once in a while," Sam replies.

He narrows his eyes. "What kind of visitors?"

"People like you." She gestures at the two of them. "People on the Railroad."

"I'm sorry, what?" Jared sits bolt upright, brows drawing together.

Jensen is already reaching for his shirt when Sam speaks again. "Don't worry, none of them will say a word. They won't lift a finger to help you, but they won't do you any harm, either."

"I don't understand," Jared frowns.

"It doesn’t matter," Jensen snaps. "We are getting the hell out of here, right now."

"You don't have to," Sam says. She holds up a hand. "Please. I didn't mean to scare you, I just thought you should know."

"We should know that the whole goddamn town knows what you're doing here?" Jensen retorts. 

"They know that I have sheltered people in the past, and that I continue to do so from time to time," she replies. "I don't mail-blast the neighbors when I'm expecting someone. If all goes well, no one ever knows."

"You said none of them would help us, though," Jared says. "What do you mean by that?"

Sam sighs. "We've all lived here since before the Crash. This town depended on ranching before, and it still does. It's just that instead of buying our feed and supplies and then selling our animals to the highest bidder, the animals are already owned. We raise them for the congloms in exchange for the supplies we need. The daily work isn't that different, just where it goes." She fixes Jensen with a sterner glare. "When it comes down to it, people want to protect themselves and their families. If they can keep earning a living the same way they did before, they aren't going to ask too many questions about what goes on out there in the world. If they can ensure their children are safe and fed and clothed, they're not going to speak out too loudly against any unfairness that might be in the system. Easier just to look away."

"What makes you so different?" Jensen snaps. "Why are you willing to risk your family?"

"Don't have one," she says simply. "Never had siblings, never had a spouse. It's always only been me out here. And I _know_ there are people out here who agree with me about how awful things are, but they're too scared to do anything about it. So they can privately sympathize with what I'm doing and yet tell themselves they're not in danger because they're not doing anything wrong."

"That doesn't make it right," Jensen retorts. "Feeling bad about how much the world sucks doesn't help anyone if you don't do anything about it. They're letting you take all the risks so they can feel good about keeping their mouths shut."

Sam gives him a wry smile. "If this whole town was taking in people on the Railroad, someone from the congloms would notice awful quick. One person, with one attic room, might not move a lot of people, but it's safer that way. For everyone." Her smile sharpens. "Besides, they all know they're complicit. They'll never say a word to the authorities, because then they'd have to explain how I've smuggled people in and out under their noses for years and they never noticed. No one would believe that. Not in a town this small."

"If someone came here from BPChaseVirgin right now and said they were looking for us, you're telling me that no one in this town would turn us in?" Jensen asks. 

"I don't believe they would," she replies. "They know me, and they trust me." She leans slightly closer. "That's not something you're going to hear at every station. That's not something you're likely to hear at _any_ station."

"She's right," Jared says. "In a weird way, this is safer."

"I still don't like it," Jensen says.

Sam waves a hand at him. "You're free to take off, then. Or stay awake to make sure no one comes knocking at the door. But you look just about worn out, the both of you, even after sleeping all day. I give you my word, you're safe here."

Jensen sits down on the bed, mind spinning. He can kind of see the merit to the argument of Sam's neighbors, at least in the abstract. And he knew plenty of people in Dallas who would enjoy the occasional independent beer or even a whole meal secretly catered from non-FDA sources, like they were doing something dangerous and noteworthy when the next day they were going to go back to their conglom jobs and eat their approved food like nothing ever happened. This is kind of the opposite of that, he supposes.

"How many people have you had through here?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "I'm not gonna tell you that any more than you're going to tell me where you're from or why you're running. Safer for both of us."

Jensen nods slowly, happy that she's got at least that much caution. "What did you mean about the cycle not being ready yet?"

Sam deposits the tray at the foot of the bed and steps back. "Give me a few more days," she says. "The next two stages can be tricky to line up, and since you were delayed, that complicates things. Might have to be that you skip a step. Let me get in touch with a few folks and see what's up."

Jensen bites back the urge to tell her to be careful. If she really has been running fugitives in and out of this town under her neighbors' willing noses, she knows how not to get caught. Still, the thought that everyone in this town makes a living from the same kind of people they're hiding from gives him the creeps.

When he tells Jared this later, after Sam has gone downstairs and they've devoured her sandwiches, Jared replies, "Everyone in the cities makes a living from them too, you know. What makes it different out here?"

"Feels like there should be more choices out here," Jensen replies. "Growing your own food, raising your own animals. You could put up a few turbines and live off the grid or something."

"Until the FDA comes along and cites you for unregistered agriculture," Jared replies. "When my brother was working in West Texas, one of the men in town was arrested for that. He'd had a vegetable garden out back, but the vegetables were home-grown: eyes he'd cut off potatoes, seeds from tomatoes, scraps from other vegetables, you know? But it wasn't purchased from approved sources, and that was enough. Don't even get me started on so-called illegal energy sources that aren't 'properly maintained' by the congloms. People are just as vulnerable out here as they are in the city, maybe even more."

Jensen thinks about that for a while. "You suppose that's why they're willing to ignore Sam helping us out? They might have their own things they're trying to keep quiet off the grid?"

"Or like she said, they're happy to stick it to the congloms as quietly as they can." Jared shrugs. "There's always been this mythology about the rural West, you know, that people are so independent and proud. Being beholden to the big corporations might stick with them even worse than people in the cities."

"Guess I never thought about it like that," Jensen replies.

"City boy," Jared teases, elbowing him in the side. 

"Like you're not," Jensen shoots back.

"Fair enough," Jared says with a grin. He sets the tray on the floor and brushes his hands over it, crumbs raining down. "Now, this city boy is going to enjoy this nice bed and sleep while it's dark out for once."

Jensen can't think of a reason to argue with that, and so he curls up behind Jared, breathing in his scent, and falls back asleep.

 

They really enjoy staying put for about twenty-four hours. They sleep at least half of that time, take a shower again when they wake up for the sheer pleasure of it, and eat more food than either of them have had in weeks.

After what Sam has told them, though, they still don't dare go outside. Even at night, they're reluctant to leave the house in case someone sees them. Best not to give the neighbors anything _not_ to talk about, Jensen reasons, and Jared chuckles in response.

At the same time, even though they're sharing the bed, they're only sleeping. On the one hand, there _is_ someone within hearing distance, and Jensen was pretty damn loud the last time Jared got his hands on him. On the other hand, having gone for so long with no more than a couple of kisses at first and only a few times holding hands since, Jensen is really starting to think that they had a one-time hookup. He'd ask Jared about it, but they need to stick together for a while yet, and he doesn't want to make things awkward between them.

With nothing to do and a need to occupy his mind, Jensen goes so far as to ask Sam if she needs any upgrading or repair of her various electronics. He's happy to spend an afternoon coaxing an old desktop back to life, even once she tells him it's going to be sold to a collector. He checks in on Jared's implant regularly and is pleased to see it's healing just fine. Neither of them has sensed any 'lims since they got out of the city, but Jensen feels a lot more secure than he has since they left Dallas. Whatever challenges lie before them, at least none of them will be coming from inside their own heads.

It's three days of being trapped inside before Jensen asks again about their next steps. This time, Sam's willing to tell them. "It's still two days away, but I'll take you a little ways north. We'll meet up with a tonmus truck, and it'll take you from there."

"Wait, what now?" Jensen asks, even as Jared asks, "Take us where?"

Sam sighs and addresses Jensen. "As few people as there are out here, it gets sparser the farther west you go. The next station isn't till Pueblo, Colorado. You can't keep walking. That's six hundred miles."

"I'm not riding in a truck without a driver," Jensen replies. "Hell, I'm not riding in a truck _with_ a driver. Too many ways to get found."

"You've got some pretty heavy-duty hardware on you," Sam replies, fingering the skin behind her ear. "You can scan for all sorts of alerts, I bet."

"That's not the point," Jensen says. "A tonmus'll go down the private highways. It'll get scanned at the state borders, at the weigh stations, anywhere else someone wants to make a buck off of it. Two people on board will get picked up on scans at some point."

"It's a modified cargo shipment," Sam explains. "The container will be shielded to protect you from any of the scans you're likely to encounter."

Jensen throws up his hands. "I'm not risking our lives on 'likely'."

She shakes her head. "There's no other way. If you strike out on foot, they'll find you at some point when you're frozen stiff. Winter is just about here, and the wind and snow can be deadly. We've passed people off this way before. We know what we're doing."

"What's the biggest city we'd be going through?" Jared asks.

"Pueblo itself," Sam replies. "And you'd be stopping on the outskirts. The truck is programmed to stop outside of town, and the plan is for you to be met there by someone from the next station. It's not unusual for a tonmus to stop before its delivery point to get a driver on board, so it won't look suspicious."

"What about the first stop, the one to pick us up?" Jensen asks.

"Refueling stop. It's a regular route, goes once a week. Easy to take advantage of."

Jensen falls silent, not sure what else to say. He still doesn't like it, not at all. But what are their alternatives? He doubts they could hitch a ride, and even if they did, they'd have to worry about how much they could trust the driver. Some people would be all too happy to bring hitchhikers to the nearest highway patrol station, figuring they're trying to evade tolls if not something worse. At least an autonomous vehicle wouldn't have a driver to ask questions of them.

The problem is the scans, though. He'd be trusting the both of them to someone he'd never met and never _would_ meet, someone who had produced whatever this shielded space was to protect them from weight scans and x-rays and other kinds of inspections done at random points on the private highways precisely to make sure that no humans were where they shouldn't be. Maybe no one has ever been caught before on this route, but that doesn't mean it can't happen.

When he tells Jared this later, upstairs in their room, Jared shrugs. "Aren't we trusting people we've never met this whole time? Sam and Ruth to give us shelter and food and directions? Genevieve and Danneel to give me the blocker and take away the tracker and not report either one? Whoever else is at the next station? We can't get through this without trusting strangers, Jensen."

"This is different," he says. "I just—I don't like the thought of being trapped in a box that's hurtling down the highway and me not able to control when it stops or who inspects it or where it's going. If it's us out on our own, we can run. We can change direction and go around and get away from danger if we spot it."

"Not if that danger is the distance," Jared replies. "You heard what Sam said. She showed me on the map. We've barely gone two hundred miles from where we started. It's going to get colder, and it's going to be more isolated. No random churches with supplies we can 'borrow.' Probably not any buildings at all in some stretches. There's no way we can walk that distance."

Jensen snaps, "I know that." When Jared's brows draw together, he holds up a hand. "Sorry. I mean, intellectually I know that. But I just…" He trails off.

"It's hard to give up that control," Jared replies. He's sitting next to Jensen on the bed, and he reaches over to take his hand with his metal one. "Believe me, I know. When I took off with you…I mean, I figured I could trust you after what I'd admitted to you when we met. You were on my side, I knew that. But that's different than trusting you to know what you're doing."

Jensen frowns. "Of course I know what I'm doing."

"Think about the people who have come here before us," Jared says. "Some of them were probably sent by you, right?" Jensen shrugs, and he goes on, "They had to put the same trust in people. Hell, they were putting that trust in _you_ to get them out of town in the first place. I'm not saying it's not scary, but it's your turn. If what we have to do to go forward is trust a tonmus to carry us where we need to go, then that's what we do."

Jensen sits in silence for a moment. Jared does have a really good point—he's been at the other end of this a number of times, and finding out that Matt had gotten caught had scared him so badly that he'd pulled away from the Railroad all together. He's always thought that was about making sure no one else got caught, but he's slowly realizing that it was also because he doesn't trust himself to do it right. It's been easier to stay detached and not risk anything. But now, he's put himself and Jared in a place where they have to trust strangers, people a lot like him. 

He squeezes Jared's hand back. "That's a damn good point."

Jared shyly smiles. "Does that mean we're going?"

He reluctantly nods. "I'm going to show you how to do some things with that blocker, and we'll have to modify my detector so it can pick up someone scanning us. But yeah, I think we have to."

To Jensen's surprise, Jared leans over and gives him a kiss. He returns it carefully, trying to press back equally hard but no harder, letting Jared know that yes, he's very much interested in this sort of thing if Jared is.

When he draws back, Jared has that same small, shy smile on his face. "I wish we were really alone," he says quietly.

Jensen's heart makes a small leap that he tries not to let bleed out all over his face. All he says is, "Me too," thumb rubbing over the back of Jared's hand. It doesn't feel quite like skin, but it's warm to the touch, and he knows that Jared can feel it.

Despite the kisses and the suggestion that there might, someday, be something more, Jensen doesn't sleep well that night. First, his mind is racing with all of the things that could go wrong being locked up inside of a truck that's driving itself. It's not the idea of a tonmus that bothers him so much: he's ridden in self-driving taxis around Dallas for years and worried about the ride less than if there was a human behind the wheel. It's the idea of being trapped, of not being to get out and run if they're somehow detected, that makes him nervous.

And when he does finally fall asleep, that's what fills his dreams. He and Jared are trapped inside a shipping container, guards with guns and flashlights blinding them and hauling them out into a private prison transport. Or worse yet, they haul Jared away screaming and decide to take Jensen out right then and there as a lesson to people who try to steal conglom property.

He wakes up abruptly, heart thumping, hand going to his forehead to make sure there isn't really the neat circle of a bullet hole there. All he feels is sweat, and he lies back down, rolling sideways to look at Jared.

Jared's arms are outflung again, though since he's on his stomach, his aug is the closest one to Jensen. He's never seen it so far up before, past the elbow and midway up the bicep. It follows the rough shape of a human arm, widening slightly at the forearm and again between elbow and shoulder, though not in the rounded curve of a muscle. Jensen hasn't seen Jared's other arm bare, either, but based on his forearm, he imagines there's a damn fine bicep under that shirt, and it seems wrong to not have it echoed here. Then again, it's not like the congloms would be interested in anything besides functionality. Jared should probably be happy that it's as conventional-looking as it is.

Jensen shakes his head to himself and rolls over, putting his back to Jared. He's not going to examine the aug while Jared's asleep. He has to earn enough of Jared's trust for him to show it to him straight out. There's a part of Jensen that would love to check out the electronics that are involved in keeping a piece like that going, but that's the least of his concerns. And definitely not something that he would ever ask Jared without an invitation.

He doesn't fall back asleep but watches the sun slowly rise between the slats of the blinds. They slept so much their first day here that they've fallen back into a normal sleep schedule. He supposes it doesn't matter for the next stage of their journey, so they might as well do what feels natural in the meantime.

Behind him, Jared shifts closer in his sleep. His body is warm behind Jensen, and Jensen almost instinctively snuggles back into it. Jared mutters something and throws his arm over Jensen before falling still again. 

It's the aug resting around Jensen's waist, sleeveless and shiny. Jensen lies still for a moment, expecting Jared to wake up. When he doesn't, Jensen rests a hand on Jared's translucent forearm and closes his eyes.

When he wakes up again, Jared is gone.

 

They leave for the truck stop that night. Sam has packed travel food and bottled water for them, along with a wider-mouthed bottle with a tight-fitting lid. "The truck isn't going to make stops," she warns. "You can't leave any trace you were there." 

Jensen grimaces as he accepts the bottle.

It's not quite dark as they head out the door, and Jensen once again feels like there are eyes on them as they climb into the cab of Sam's pickup. But there are no houses right next to hers, and as they pull out of the small town, Jensen realizes there aren't many buildings here at all. "How big is this place?" he asks.

"Three hundred souls," she replies. "Scattered over what used to hold three times that." They hit the open road, and she guns it. "Groceries are an hour away, but then so is the mail. We're too small for any of the postal companies to profitably deliver, so we take turns picking up each other's mail in Lawton."

"Why are you still here?" Jensen asks.

Sam snorts. "You gotta ask that question, you aren't gonna understand the answer."

"Try me," Jensen says, folding his arms across his chest. It seems to give him a little more room, squeezed as he is between Sam and Jared.

"It's where we're from." She shrugs helplessly. "It's home. We all grew up there, we know what it's like. We know there isn't anywhere better, not really. Maybe we could move somewhere bigger that makes it easier to buy stuff, but then that makes it easier for them to track us, doesn't it?"

"You mean you're off the grid?" Jared asks.

"No one's really off the grid," Sam replies. "Not anymore. But yeah, it's easier to grow your own food and collect the water when it does rain and do what used to be called recycling. Even some homegrown biofuel." She pats the dashboard. "Still illegal, most of it, but no one's going to bother hunting down people in a town this small for water or plastic theft. Not when there's enough people they can catch in the cities."

"So that's why your neighbors keep your secret," Jared replies. "Because they're doing things that could get them in trouble, too."

"Some of them," she replies. "Some of them just want to live their lives and really don't care."

They drive on in silence for a while. There's nothing visible in the headlights except the straight line of the road, not even traffic in the other direction. It's a private highway, but a minor one, and Jensen made sure both of them had their blockers turned all the way up. He's got his catcher going, too, and he's planning on keeping it on until they're to the next station. It's not going to be that many hours in the truck, and he needs to know if anyone's looking for them along this route.

They make a few turns, never encountering another vehicle, and Jensen starts to understand what Sam meant about the landscape growing ever more isolated. Even when the lights of the interstate start to shine in the distance, there's no sign of development.

Sam slows and pulls over to the side of the road. "Hold on a sec," she says, tapping on the mini-tablet installed on her dash.

"Are we almost there?" Jared asks.

"Yeah, but we gotta time it right," she says. "Can't be waiting around a truck stop. Too many curious eyes."

"Agreed," Jensen says. "So how long do we have to wait here?"

She swipes and taps. "Fifteen minutes. Then we can get to the truck stop, and it'll be there by the time I fuel up and get some snacks." She flashes Jensen a rare smile. "And you boys can make a last pit stop."

Twenty minutes later, they're rolling into a huge truck stop complex. Jensen's blocker is pinging like crazy, his catcher muttering a series of ads one after the other into his ear. He shakes his head. How do normal people stand this?

 _They don't even realize it's there_ , he reminds himself. And shudders.

"It's a Matson-Maersk," Sam says as she comes to a stop next to the pumps. "Box number CSQU3054383."

Jensen repeats the number back to her. 

She nods. "The attendant will come out to fill up the tonmus. Once it's done, it'll roll to a corner of the lot. Sometimes tonmuses have a rider on board who needs to take a leak, whatever. You boys will get yourselves out into the weeds and skirt the cams. Once it backs up, you should be able to get up under it and find the trap door near the back wheels. You'll have about five minutes before it has to get moving again. And I'll be gone."

"Understood." Jensen looks at Jared. "You got that?"

"CSQU3054383, into the weeds, five minutes," Jared says. He leans forward to look at Sam. "Thank you so much. There's no way we could ever repay you."

"You can get out of here in one piece," she says. "That's my reward."

And then she hops out of the cab.

Jensen draws a deep breath. "Okay, let's go."

"Bathroom stop?" Jared asks.

"Pee in the weeds," Jensen replies. "We can't risk our faces being seen by anyone. Just because there's not a public manhunt doesn't mean there aren't bounty hunters on the lookout. We get seen on a linked cam, there's no telling where it might get uploaded and who might find it."

They make their way casually to the back of the lot like they're going for a smoke. Jensen uses his catcher to determine where the cameras are pointing and steers them into a dark patch outside the truck stop lights. Then it's a matter of picking their way through sagebrush and weeds until they come around to the truck lot.

The big rigs are quietly humming in the night air, plugged in to power sources across the lot. Jensen's surprised there are still so many driven by humans that they would need to stop and rest, but maybe they're all specialized cargo.

Then a grey truck pulls in and backs into a space. They inch forward until they can see the letters and numbers across the back. Just as expected.

Jensen goes first, crouching low to fit under the truck. He has no idea what to expect, and the heavy, silent weight of the truck above him is enough to start him freaking out already. But then Jared is there at his side, one steadying hand on his shoulder as he looks upwards. There's a tiny flash of light, and then Jensen sees a small handle and reaches for it. 

He twists and pulls down, but nothing happens. "Two minutes," he mutters.

"What about pushing?" Jared asks, and a circle of steel the size of a manhole disappears upwards.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Jensen pushes himself up into the container, lifting his legs clear so Jared can follow. There's not a lot of room for them; the container seems to be filled with sacks of grain. But they can squeeze together enough to drop the cover back in place and give it a turn to lock it in.

A moment later, the truck starts moving. 

Jensen heaves in a breath, and Jared gives a slight shake of his head as if in disbelief. For both their sakes, Jensen leans closer and wraps his arms around Jared. Jared holds him in return, and they stand there for a while, swaying with the movement of the truck as it turns onto the highway and begins to accelerate.

 

After that, there's nothing to do but wait and be anxious.

Jensen had scanned the map in detail, trying to figure out the route they might take. Not that they're going to be able to bail even if they have to, but he just wants to know where the fuck they even are. When his geo-tracer tells him that they're not taking the exit he's expecting, he mutters out loud, "Where are they taking us?"

"It won't be the shortest route," Jared tells him. "Better to zip along on the private highways even if it's out of the way than take the smaller roads. Those might be in a straight line, but they go through small towns where they have to slow down."

"Surprised they don't barrel on through anyway," Jensen mutters. 

"They used to," Jared says. "Then some local security force figured they could make a deal with a trucking company to enforce the speed limit only for their rivals, and they all decided to stay off the side roads. Mutually assured destruction and all that."

"Why doesn't that happen on the main highways, too?" Jensen asks. "Since they're all owned by transport congloms."

"But not always the same ones." Jared shifts next to him where they sit cross-legged on the floor of the truck. "That was the one thing the old highway administration did right when they sold off the interstates. They broke them up into chunks and wouldn't sell more than a hundred-mile chunk to the same buyer. Even traced up the chain to make sure the buyers weren't all part of the same conglom."

"Wouldn't they trade links with each other, though? So they could dominate here or there?"

"That requires cooperation," Jared replies. "More often, what happens is that one corp buys another out, and what used to be owned by three congloms is owned by two. Like with the local security speed traps, they know that if one of them got control of, say, all the roads in Kansas and started raising the prices, someone else would raise the prices in Nebraska. And since they all own the trucking firms anyway, they'd end up screwing each other over."

"They'll figure out a way to do it sooner or later, I'd bet," Jensen mutters. His catcher twinges, and he raises a hand to his temple. "Weather report," he says. "Possible icing, vehicles advised to slow down."

Sure enough, a moment later, the truck slows slightly. Jensen settles back against the sacks of grain. "How d'you know so much about the roads, anyway?"

Jared shrugs one shoulder. "It's something I geek out about. I remember going on road trips with my parents when I was little, back when the highways were still free. Or most of them, at least. I don't remember it that well, but it must have been something, to be able to drive wherever you want and only pay for gas. And gas was so cheap then, too! Only four or five dollars a gallon." Jared sighs. "Back when they still thought there was an endless supply of oil."

"There still _is_ an endless supply of oil," Jensen retorts. "D'you think Foxxonmobile makes all of its money from media?"

Jared narrows his eyes. "You're seriously an oil truther?"

Throwing up his hands, Jensen says, "It's a matter of proven reserves, Jared. You can look up how much oil was left when the Crash happened, and then calculate how many fewer miles per person have been driven since then, and what you come up with is that…"

They go on with a good-natured argument for about an hour, and Jensen realizes halfway through that he's having a great time. Jared might not be able to pull up the vast collection of facts and figures that Jensen can through his internal network connections, but he's got a pretty impressive amount of knowledge simply stored in his head, no implants needed. It's kind of sexy, Jensen has to admit.

Still, he has to tease Jared and call him a nerd, a label that Jared's more than happy to accept.

Despite Jensen's fears, the trip goes completely smoothly. Nine hours after climbing into the truck, they roll to a stop, and there's a double knock at the back of the container. They climb out the way they came in, ducking out from under the truck to see a tall, white-haired man waiting beside a pickup truck on the side of a dirt road. Behind him, the land looks as flat and dry as where they left, though there's a smudge on the horizon that might be mountains.

He looks them up and down before offering a bottle of water. "How're you boys doing?" he asks in a raspy voice.

"Just fine," Jensen says, accepting the water and gulping half of it down before handing it to Jared. They'd had water in the truck, but he hadn't wanted to drink more than he had to, not being too keen on peeing into a bottle. 

"Call me Jim," the man says. 

Jensen gives him a little wave in acknowledgment, and Jared sticks out his regular hand to shake Jim's.

Behind them, the tonmus rolls back onto the road and trundles on its way. Jensen watches it go, feeling an odd sense of melancholy for something that never even had a human involved.

"You'll need to get in the back under the tarp," Jim says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. 

"How long?" Jensen asks.

"Couple of hours," he replies. "The station's up in the mountains, town called Fairplay. Gonna be a bit colder up there, but there's blankets in the back."

Jensen inwardly frowns. This is almost as bad as the back of the tonmus, except now the stranger they have to trust is the person right in front of them.

Jim gives him a tight smile. "I get it," he says. "I've picked up plenty of people like you before and sent them safely on their way, except you don't have anything but my word to go on."

"Your word is good," Jared says. He puts a hand on Jensen's shoulder. "If you were leading us into a trap, it'd be a whole lot easier to just have met us with a security force."

"If he _knew_ he was leading us into a trap," Jensen retorts. At Jim's puzzled look, he says, "We recently learned that there are 'lims sent out to encourage certain people wanted by the authorities to turn themselves in."

He expects to see alarm on Jim's face, but instead he replies, "Son, that was one of the first things they used 'em for. No one complained too loudly about presumed criminals being subjected to light mind control. No one in a position to do anything about it, that is. The protests didn't start until they started using 'em to influence behavior on a broader scale. Then the Crash happened, and people were too busy trying to get food and shelter to worry about what was being beamed into their heads." He taps his temple. "I'm pretty resistant to outside influences, though. Have been for a while."

Jensen relaxes. Of course, Jim could be making that up, but as Jared said, it would have been easier for him just to turn them in from the start. They shouldn't have to worry about their driver suddenly changing course and taking them to a Foxxonbank installation.

So they climb into the back of the truck and nestle in. There's a pile of thick blankets lining the bed of the truck, enough to soften the ride and put over them. They settle in, and Jim pulls the big blue tarp over them and secures it in place. 

Jensen's a little chilly as they start, but Jared rolls up against him like he's aware Jensen needs a heat source. One of the things he's learned about Jared already is the furnace-like nature of his big body, and soon he's sweating a bit under the blankets. It feels nice, though, and after the long, hyper-vigilant ride in the truck, Jensen grows sleepy pretty quickly.

"Wake me up if anything happens," he murmurs to Jared.

He swears he feels a kiss pressed to the top of his head, and he burrows closer to Jared.

Jensen dreams about highways, endless open roads where he and Jared can drive anywhere they want with no one looking for them. He hasn't let himself consciously think about what might come _next_ , always focusing on getting through the day and getting to the next station. In his dreams, though, they're roaming around free and clear, and it's a nice dream to hold on to.

When he wakes up, it's colder than before. His hands are chilly, and he regrets not digging his gloves out of his bag before settling in. Jared's arms are around him as he rests mostly on Jared's chest. He lifts his head to see that Jared's eyes are closed, and his breathing seems deep and regular.

The road is bumpy, too much so to be a private road. Jensen doesn't hear the crunch of gravel or the swish of dirt, though, so it must be paved. There's a hard thud, and Jared's eyes fly open. "Wha—?" he blurts, trying to sit up.

"Shhh." Jensen leans on Jared's shoulders. "It's all right. We're still in the truck."

Jared blinks a few times. It's dark, so they can't see the tarp overhead, but they're clearly still moving. "How long?" he asks.

"Don't know." Jensen hesitates a second before leaning up and giving Jared a quick kiss. "You make a good pillow."

"And you make a good blanket." Jared puts his head back down and pulls Jensen closer. "Keep warming me up."

"Yes sir," Jensen mutters, but he puts his head against Jared's chest.

They're quiet for a moment, just the hum of the engine and the swish of the tires on the road. Then Jared asks quietly, "How much longer is this going to take?"

"I told you, I don't know where we are."

"No, not just this stage. The whole thing. How long does it take people to travel the Railroad?"

Jensen sighs. "I don't know," he says. "Months, I suppose."

"I thought you helped people on it."

"I got them started," he replies. "It's like we've seen—people don't know more than one or two stations ahead, for their safety and for the whole system. It's not like they can send me a thank you card once they get out."

After a pause, Jared says, "Because we have a long way to go. Like, I don't even know if we're halfway there yet in terms of miles. And it's already late fall. We can't be going very far on foot from here on out. And somehow relying on other people to drive us around, or set up a tonmus for us, feels a lot more risky."

"I've been saying that since Sam told us what was next," Jensen mutters, but without any heat. 

"Yeah, I know," Jared replies. "I just…" He sighs.

"Can't go back," Jensen reminds him. "The only way out is through."

"Like I don't know that," Jared retorts. 

"Sorry."

"No, it's okay." Jared sighs again. "At least I have the blocker now, though. That's cool."

"I've had mine for so long, I don't remember anything else," Jensen says. "Can you tell a difference?"

"In some ways. I mean, it's not like you can hear the 'lims anyway, right? Otherwise they wouldn't be subliminal. But yeah, I can tell there's a difference. Part of it is probably out because we're in the middle of fucking nowhere, but even at the truck stop, it just felt quieter. And I wasn't as hungry as I had been. I think we don't realize how many of the 'lims are nudging us to buy food or drinks. It's a wonder we're not all enormously overweight."

"Yeah, well, the gyms and diet plans advertise through 'lims, too, so it probably all washes out."

They roll along for a while, wincing together when they hit a bump. Finally Jensen says, "It's probably a couple of months yet, yeah. But people know that you can't wait for the weather to get better to get on the Railroad. They've got safehouses if you can't move, or warm weather gear. Hell, maybe we'll get to try on some snowshoes."

"That'd be cool," Jared says. "I've never seen snow before. Not more than a dusting."

"Once or twice when I was a kid, it was cold enough to snow in Dallas, but it's too warm in the winter now." Jensen shakes his head. "Bet we'll be wishing it's warmer soon enough."

It's quiet for a while, and then the truck turns. There's gravel crunching beneath the tires now, and the truck strains harder like it's going uphill. Once or twice, the truck seems to slip a little, like the tires aren't quite catching on the ground. Every time Jensen's about to start worrying, though, they straighten out and continue on.

Finally, they roll to a stop. The door of the truck slams, and they hear the crunching of footsteps moving away. Then it's quiet. Completely quiet, like Jensen hasn't experienced in a very long time.

It's also cold, and he shifts closer to Jared to try and steal some more of his warmth. He buries his nose against Jared's neck, and Jared yelps. "Shhh," Jensen warns.

For answer, Jared slips his regular hand under the collar of Jensen's jacket, cold against the nape of his neck, and Jensen actually bites the collar of Jared's coat to keep from shrieking in response. "Fuck," he breathes out.

"Too cold for that," Jared replies, but he does move his hand away from Jensen's skin.

They shiver for a few more minutes, and then the tarp is suddenly lifted off of them. Cold air comes rushing in, and Jensen shoots upright, teeth almost chattering.

"We're here," Jim says. "It's just a short walk up the road."

Jensen looks around dubiously. They appear to be on a pulloff nestled against the side of a mountain, on a gravel road winding its way upwards into the darkness. Tall evergreens tower overhead, the wind swishing through them, and there's the velvety blackness of the night sky above that. 

Jim points behind him, to a narrow dirt track disappearing up into the trees. "That's the driveway," he says. "Kim will be there to meet you at the top."

"How far is it?" Jared asks.

He squints. "Should be a fifteen, twenty minute walk. Mostly uphill, but there's not much snow."

They exchange a look and then clamber out of the truck. Not like they have much choice at this point, anyway.

"Listen, thanks," Jared says, extending his hand to Jim. "I don't know how far out of your way you had to go for us, but we really appreciate it."

"Just doing my duty," he says with a small salute. "I signed up to defend our country when I was younger than you. Feels like that's what I'm doing here, even if the people in charge wouldn't see it that way."

"Well, take care of yourself," Jensen says, shaking Jim's hand as well. "They were looking for us further east, so be careful."

"Always am," Jim replies. "Good luck to you boys."

When his truck pulls away, they're left there on the mountainside, packs on their backs and water bottles almost too cold to drink. "Onward and upward," Jared says, and they start climbing up the dirt track.

It's not too steep, but they're huffing and puffing after only a couple of minutes. Jensen manages to pull in a satellite signal, and though he can't get an exact fix on their location, they're something like a mile and a half above sea level. "Thought I was getting out of shape there," he says as he passes the information on to Jared.

"You work out much in between your revolutionary projects?" Jared asks.

Jensen scoffs. "I keep in shape staying hidden. Takes a fair amount of physical work to keep the power and water on when you're not hooked into the grid. Not to mention getting around town on foot or bicycle."

"How retro," Jared teases. "Like, an actual human-powered bicycle?"

"Hey, they got real popular after the Crash," Jensen replied. "Free, as long as you have enough food to eat to have the energy to power them." He nudges Jared in the side. "Not all of us have fancy engineering jobs where there's probably a private gym in the basement."

"Yeah." Jared goes quiet for a moment. Then he says, "I worked out a lot, before. They wanted me to keep doing it, so my body would get used to the aug and what it could do. But I just couldn't—I didn't want people staring at me."

"I'm sorry." Jensen comes to a halt and puts his hand on Jared's elbow. "I wasn't thinking."

"No, it's fine." Jared gives him a small smile. "I'm glad that you can forget it's there. Sometimes, I even forget it, too."

"I wish it had never happened to you," Jensen says fiercely.

"Me too," Jared replies. The small smile turns lopsided. "Of course, then I never would have met you. So maybe it was for the best."

And he turns and starts up the road again, leaving a dumbfounded Jensen staring after him. 

 

At the top of the road, there's an honest-to-god log cabin nestled in the woods, smoke coming out of the chimney and everything. "Did we just travel through time as well as space?" Jared asks as they approach. 

They knock on the door, and a woman answers. She's not as old as Jim, maybe the age of Jensen's parents. "You must have come from Pueblo," she says. "Which means you must be freezing. Come on in."

They follow her to the hearth, where a fire is blazing. The wood crackles and pops, the occasional spark cracking against the iron fire grating. The heat feels wonderful.

"I'm Kim," she says, bringing out a tray with two steaming mugs on it. "You can give me a name if you like, but you don't have to."

"Jay," Jared says. He points between himself and Jensen. "Jay One and Jay Two."

"That will do just fine," Kim says. She offers the mugs, and Jared looks thrilled as the scent of hot chocolate wafts up. "I've got some vegetable soup on the stove if you want it."

"That would be wonderful, ma'am," Jared says. He sips at the hot chocolate and sighs happily.

They've finished the hot chocolate by the time she brings bowls of soup. It tastes like independent food, not the over-salted and bland mass-produced food that's authorized by law. "Are these real vegetables?" Jensen asks.

"If you're asking if I grow my own produce, that wouldn't be legal without a permit," Kim replies primly. Then she winks. "Of course, neither would taking in people who are trying to evade the congloms, now would it?"

"This is delicious," Jared says, all but pouring the soup bowl into his mouth. "I've never had soup this good."

"You're probably just hungry," Kim replies, but she looks pleased.

Jensen's regained the feeling in his cold fingers, between the hot beverage and the soup, and now he's starting to feel the effects of the long journey. He'd love to just lay down and sleep in front of the fire, but instead he asks, "Where do you want us to go?"

"About that." She frowns. "I'm afraid that there isn't space in here for both of you for the days that you'll need to stay here. My brother comes by every few days, and he doesn't know about my habit of taking in guests. I'd prefer it stay that way."

"Of course," Jared says. "We wouldn't want to cause you any trouble."

She gives a short nod. "I have a smaller cabin, just around the bend. The problem is, it's a summer cabin and doesn't have electricity or heat, though it does have water. And I can't risk a second plume of smoke; we're pretty close to the GoogMonsantheon National Forest, and their drones sometimes wander this way."

"Got it." Jared swallows, hard. "So what's the alternative?"

"Lots of blankets. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, we get it," Jensen says. "We don't want to do anything that could put you at risk."

"I appreciate that. I'll bring hot meals up most days and let you know in advance when I can't. You should probably stick to the inside of the cabin, too, so you're not mistaken for lost hikers or people who haven’t paid the forest entry fee."

"Right." Jensen holds back a sigh. "How many days did you say?"

"It'll be at least six days before Jim can come back," she says. "Sorry."

Jared doesn't look any happier than Jensen is feeling, but it's not like they have a choice. "We're just grateful for a roof and some food," Jensen says. "That's more than we have any right to ask for."

"You have plenty of rights," Kim replies. "At least in name. Hopefully where you're going, you'll actually get to practice them."

The cabin is as cold as Jensen feared. It's small, just one main room with a tiny bathroom off on one side. There's a wood-burning stove with a burner on top, but they can't burn wood without sending out a smoke signal.

"It's going to get cold," Jared says, staring at the empty stove.

Jensen nods at the bed. "Guess we're going to have to huddle for warmth."

There's three thick quilts over the bed, plus the clean sheets, and they're each wearing two layers, top and bottom. When Jared rolls onto his back and holds out his arms, Jensen gladly plasters himself against him, head to toe. With only his face poking out from under the blankets, and Jared acting as a furnace against him, it actually isn't that bad.

"What time is it?" Jared asks.

Jensen consults the clock in his head, still pulling down a satellite signal despite their isolated location. "About two in the morning."

"No wonder I'm—" Jared breaks off to yawn—"so tired." He gives Jensen a sheepish smile. "Not much to do besides sleep, I guess."

"Yeah." He shakes his head. "Somehow in all the thoughts I had about the Railroad, I never pictured all these periods of boredom, you know?"

"Better boredom than excitement," Jared mumbles. He pats Jensen's back. "Sleep now."

It's only a few minutes before Jared's limbs go lax and his breathing slows. Jensen, unfortunately, is too tired to sleep. His mind is racing, wondering about Jared's question of how much longer this will take and where they're going from here. They've been incredibly lucky so far, without any brushes with the authorities, public or private. But that can't last forever. The ferrets he's put out on the web haven't popped up with Jared's name more than once or twice, which means Foxxonbank is still trying to keep his flight under wraps. Jensen supposes it would be hard for them to admit publically that Jared has taken off with stolen intellectual property without explaining that property is his whole goddamn _arm_ , so at least they have that in their favor. For now.

Jensen's name hasn't popped up at all. He's not sure whether to be pleased that he's been so good at keeping off the radar or miffed that no one's noticed he's gone.

He dials his implants down to their lowest settings and settles in. After the long drive here, and with no electricity except when Kim's house is free, he's got to conserve power. Besides, maybe it will help him fall asleep.

An hour later, it's clear that it hasn't. Jensen sighs in frustration. He's exhausted, but nothing's working. He lifts a corner of the blankets and finds that it's freezing in the cabin. So much for getting out of bed, not that there's anywhere to go anyway.

With nothing else to do, he leans up on one elbow and watches Jared sleep. There's just enough moonlight from the window that he can make out Jared's slightly-parted lips and the way his chest slowly rises and falls under the blankets and two shirts. He looks so much more peaceful in sleep than he does during the day. Jensen hasn't realized it until now, but Jared always looks tense or nervous. Not that that's surprising, given their circumstances, but still. It's good to see him looking so calm.

"You watching me sleep?" Jared murmurs.

Jensen gives a start. It's been completely quiet in the cabin, only the sounds of pine boughs swishing outside in the wind. "No."

"Liar." Jared's eyes open and lock onto his. "What's the matter?"

"Nothin'. Just can't sleep."

"C'mere." Jared tugs him closer, his arm a warm line down Jensen's back. He shifts his legs so that one of Jensen's legs slides between his. "Cold?"

"No." Jensen puts his head on Jared's shoulder. His arm is tucked awkwardly beneath his side, and he wriggles around to try and get comfortable. In the process, his knee shifts a little higher, and Jared gives a quiet gasp. "Sorry," Jensen quickly says. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine." Jared's voice is a little breathy, but he pats Jensen's back reassuringly. 

It takes a moment for Jensen to realize that it wasn't a gasp of _pain_. Slowly, he raises his head. 

Jared's looking at him, eyes slitted open. Lying on top of him, Jensen can feel that he's actually holding his breath. He gives a light pat to Jared's chest. "You sleeping all right?" he asks quietly. "Warm enough?"

"Yeah," Jared replies, just as softly. "Was having some good dreams."

"'Bout Canada?" Jensen asks.

"Maybe." Jared blinks slowly, his eyes darkening. "Actually, they were about you."

Jensen's mouth goes dry. He clears his throat. "What about me?"

"Remember the night we met?"

"Never gonna forget it," Jensen quickly replies.

That gets him a soft, dimpled smile. "I couldn't believe someone so hot could be interested in me. Especially after this." He pulls his other hand from under the blankets, metal faintly gleaming in the moonlight.

Jensen reaches up to intertwine his fingers with Jared's. They're cool, but not cold like regular fingers might be in the unheated cabin. "How could I not be interested in someone like you?"

Jared's voice gets softer. "You haven't been. Not since we left Dallas. It's okay if it was just that night, though. I get it."

"Hey, no." Jensen shifts back up onto his elbow. "Jared, that's not it. I told myself I'd wait to get into anything complicated until we got across the border. Until we were safe."

"What if we don't get there?"

"We will." He squeezes Jared's hand. "I know we will. We made it this far, didn't we?"

Jared nods, taking his lower lip between his teeth.

Jensen's eyes track the movement, feeling something stirring at the sight of the slick pinkness of Jared's lower lip. He looks back at Jared and moistens his own lips. "'Course, we could always…you know. Just in case."

"Fuck now in case we get captured later?"

Jensen's eyebrows shoot up, and he's about to make a sharp retort when he sees the mischievous gleam in Jared's eyes. "Just for that," he says, and leans closer.

Jared meets him halfway, mouths sliding against each other in the dark before they connect. Jared's mouth is warm and wet, lips moving firmly but not urgently against his. Jensen presses back against him, not just with his mouth but with his body, trying to match the same gentle pressure without making it feel like he's in a rush.

They kiss for a while, changing angles here and there, tongues exploring at a leisurely pace. Something's definitely stirring now, and Jensen carefully shifts his knee back up, this time purposefully pressing between Jared's legs.

Jared's faint groan brings a wicked grin to Jensen's lips. He keeps his leg resting where it is with its gentle pressure. Letting go of Jared's augmented hand, he slides his hand down and then under Jared's shirts. His skin is warm and deliciously smooth, and Jensen strokes back and forth across Jared's stomach as they keep kissing.

"Mmmmm." Jared's almost purring underneath him. His right hand slips under Jensen's shirt, and even the cold air it lets in doesn't matter, because Jared's hand is warm and welcome at the small of his back. He arches slightly, and Jared takes the hint and heads the other direction, hand sliding down the back of Jensen's jeans to cup his ass.

It's Jensen's turn to murmur approvingly against Jared's mouth and feel a quick smile in response. He teases at Jared's lips with his tongue, and then Jared is meeting him, tongues slipping and twining past each other as their bodies start to move.

Jared's hand on his ass feels so good. Jensen lets himself enjoy it for a moment longer before breaking their kiss to ask, "What do you wanna do, Jared?"

"Mmm." Jared shifts his hips up, rubbing against Jensen's knee. "What do you want?"

"Wanna be somewhere warm so I can take all your clothes off and spread you out for me." Jared's eyes widen, and Jensen runs his hand down Jared's left arm, shoulder to wrist. "If that's what you want, too."

Jared nods slowly. "I think—I think someday I'll want that. With you." He smiles shyly. "That's what I was dreaming about. Showing everything to you." 

"When you're ready." Jensen drops a kiss on his lips. "And it's not so fucking cold."

Jared's smile grows. "Yeah, I'm not taking off any clothing I don't have to. Sorry about that."

"It's okay." Jensen reaches down and starts unfastening Jared's jeans. He shoots a sly grin at Jared. "Under the covers is warm enough, right?"

Jared's eyes briefly widen, and then he reaches for Jensen's jeans. They make a race out of it, laughing as they struggle to undo each other's pants the fastest. Jared wins, and Jensen stops what he's doing to kick off his jeans under the covers. Jared finishes taking his own pants off and then rolls on top of Jensen.

They stop laughing.

Jared's hard, almost as hard as Jensen is, and nestled right up against him. It's the best thing Jensen's felt in weeks, and he automatically wraps his ankles over Jared's calves to hold him in place. Jared's eyes are wide, breathing ragged. He closes his eyes and softly moans, rubbing down against Jensen. 

"Fuck," Jensen breathes out. He shoves at the sides of Jared's boxers. "Shoulda taken these off first."

"Thought we were gonna be going slower," Jared mutters. He lifts his hips enough for Jensen to push his boxers down to his knees. Balancing on one elbow, he tugs Jensen's underwear down enough for his cock to spring out. "Yeah, that's it," Jared murmurs. Then he shifts back over Jensen and pulls the blankets over his back. "Gotta be sure to stay warm."

"Don't think that's gonna be a problem," Jensen gasps. Jared's bare cock is alongside his now, warm and hard and damn it, he needs to get his hands on it. He tries to reach between them, but they're pressed too closely together. He settles for curving his hands over the tight curve of Jared's rear, pulling him closer, and gets a deep groan for his efforts.

Jared starts rocking back and forth, thrusting against Jensen's bare hip. Their shirts have been shoved up, but all he can see of Jared is the flannel stretched across his broad shoulders. It's an erotic contrast to their bare skin from the waist down, and Jensen lunges up to get his mouth on Jared's.

They're thrusting together now, the bed gently creaking beneath them. There's enough pre-come to slick the way, and Jensen can tell it's not going to take long. He lightly nips at Jared's lip before soothing it with his tongue. Jared's augmented hand is tangling in his hair, thumb brushing against the stubble on his cheek. Jensen arches up against him, using the leverage of their tangled legs to press their hips tighter together, feeling the tension building and building inside of him, straining for release…

He comes with a shout, everything tensing for one sharp moment before going blissfully still. Jared's face is buried against his neck, and he gives a deep grunt as he spills out across Jensen's hip, thrusting a few more times to prolong his release. Then he collapses against Jensen's chest, managing to keep most of his weight on his knees and elbows so he's not crushing Jensen.

Jensen threads his fingers through Jared's hair and kisses his ear, right above where his new implant sits. "You good?"

"You tell me," Jared says with a sly wiggle of his hips. 

Jensen grins. "I've got no complaints."

"Think you'll sleep now?"

He stretches out and yawns, feeling his muscles relax from head to toe. "Even if I don't, I'll still feel better."

"Glad I could help." Jared pecks his cheek and then settles down next to him. 

Jensen closes his eyes. He's comfortably warm all over, even his head and neck outside of the blankets. He's still half-naked, but Jared's body is warm against him, and in a minute he'll reach down and pull his clothes back on.

When he wakes up in the morning, their naked legs are still entwined, and that makes it easy to wake Jared up in the most pleasurable way possible.

 

After three days of huddling in the cold, getting food and drink from Kim, and warming each other up in bed, there's a knock at the door. They answer it to find Jim there again. "Nice to see you boys," he says. "You doing okay?"

"We're fine," Jensen replies. "Where's Kim?"

"Making a few preparations," he says. "You've got a long trip ahead of you."

Jared frowns. "She said you wouldn't be here for another day."

"Well, plans have changed." He gestures at Jensen. "You been blocking the news along with the 'lims?"

Jensen feels his cheeks flush. He and Jared have been busy, but there's no way he's going to admit what they've been doing. "Didn't think I could get much of a signal," he tries instead.

"Maybe you should take a look," Jim replies.

With a wary look, Jensen reaches up and turns on the access implant that he's been ignoring since they got here. A moment later, his eyes widen and he grabs onto Jared. "Holy shit."

"What is it?" Jared asks.

"They've gone public," Jensen says. "Foxxonbank. They said you stole some of their newest, most secret nanotechnology and are trying to smuggle it out of the country."

Jared holds up his hand, gleaming in the morning sun. "This isn't exactly nano."

"Well, damn," Jim says. "That explains it."

They both turn to look at him, alarmed. He holds up his hands. "Normally, it's none of my business why someone's on the Railroad. But this has gotten really big. Bigger than two guys running from a conglom."

"What do you mean?" Jared asks.

"The news he's reading." Jim gestures at Jensen. "I have a contact in the Canadian Consulate in Denver. They read the same news, and they're really interested in this nanotechnology you're supposed to have. Like, _really_ interested."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jensen asks.

"That's why I'm here," Jim says. "Normally, the next station would be out on the eastern plains, halfway to Nebraska, and God help you if there's a blizzard after that. But your plight has caught the attention of some pretty important people up North, and they want to help you out."

Jensen feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise. "Help us out how?"

"There's a train coming through Denver in two days, headed up north. There's two seats for you boys on it."

They look at each other. "We can't ride in a train," Jensen says. "We don't have IDs, there'll be security everywhere—"

"Not a passenger train," Jim replies. "A freight train. A car marked as Level 5 hazmat, so no one's gonna look inside, just scan it and send it on."

"But it's not actually a hazmat car," Jared says. "Right?"

"Probably not," Jim winks. 

"Where's this train going?" Jensen asks.

Jim's reply sends a shiver down Jensen's spine. "Lostwood."

"Shit," Jared breathes out, even as Jensen says, "I thought you said someone wanted to _help_ us."

"That's where the train's going, but it'll make a stop first," Jim replies. "A few stops, but the one in White Earth is the one that matters. From there, it's only fifty miles to the border."

"Fifty miles that's not traversable in anything but a hazmat suit," Jensen retorts. 

"There's a station there," Jim replies. "The last station for most folks. There are ways through. I don't know what they are, of course, but they seem to work."

"Is Lostwood as bad as they say?" Jared asks quietly.

Jim shrugs. "Never been there. Like I said, travelers pass through there sometimes, so it can't be all badlands."

Jared gives Jensen a long look, and he can see the same wariness that he feels written all over Jared's face. For all that they've been talking about the impossibility of getting through the winter, it almost seems like a good idea compared to what Jim is suggesting.

When they go up to the main cabin, Kim is packing sandwiches and bottles of water into a small backpack. "Jim tell you what's happening?" she asks, her tone more clipped than before.

"Train north in a couple of days," Jensen replies.

"He tell you where that train is headed?"

"He did."

"Hmph." She pauses in her work. "Never heard of someone going that way before."

"Aw, Kim, you never know where they go north of Denver," Jim replies. "Trust me, it's a safe route."

"Safe from the authorities because no one's stupid enough to go that way," she retorts. 

"What's it like?" Jared asks.

Kim puts a hand on her hip. "What do you think it's like?" she asks. "Biggest hazmat dump on the entire planet, at least that we know about. Not that anyone knows what's really in there. We know trains and trucks head in there all the time, we can trace them back to where they came from and guess what's in them, but since the Department of Energy was sold to Foxxonbank, it's all proprietary information."

"You boys remember the spill?" Jim asks.

"Kind of," Jared says. "I mean, I remember it was the biggest oil spill that had ever happened on land. Weren't there multiple pipelines that broke?"

Jim nods. "There was a bigger earthquake than the engineers had planned for, probably 'cause they didn't take the fracking into account when they calculated the effects an earthquake would have on fracking." He rolls his eyes. "And that was before it caught on fire. Nothing like a lake of oil exploding to shake the ground up good."

"We talked about it a little in school," Jensen remembers. "Most people didn't think it was a big deal because there's not a lot of population up there."

"Just the Native Americans who'd warned us about environmental catastrophe the whole time," Kim says. "And the people who'd caused it in the first place, but of course they got evacuated."

"How long did it take to put out the fire?" Jared asks.

"Oh, they fixed the broken shut-offs on the pipelines and got the big fire contained within six months or so," Jim replies. "It's probably still smoldering under the surface. Only been fifteen years."

"But the ground must be stable, right?" Jared asks. "I mean, they wouldn't be bringing radioactive waste there if it wasn't secure."

Jensen snorts. "You of all people shouldn't trust Foxxonbank to do what they say."

Jared rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean. Weren't they still worried about environmental permits back then?"

"There was no environment left to worry about," Kim says. "Literal scorched earth, the water irretrievably contaminated for miles in every direction. Lostwood was the name of the wildlife refuge that was originally there, did you know that?" She shakes her head. "Once they decided it couldn't be restored, one of the last acts of the DOE was to designate it the new Yucca Mountain. Gave the concession to Foxxonbank, who bought them out a month later. And they've been taking any and all hazardous waste there ever since."

"One of the projects I was working on before I left had to do with hazardous waste," Jared says. "Developing nano-devices to break down certain chemical compounds into something less hazardous, or to speed up the decay of radioactive materials."

Jim looks at him sharply, but says nothing. Kim scoffs lightly. "I can only imagine how _that_ could go wrong," she says. "Like the bacteria that were supposed to eat up the plastic in the Great Pacific Garbage Patch and ended up deoxygenating the middle of the damn ocean."

"Are you sure there's no other route we can take?" Jensen asks. "A train headed northwest?"

"It's going to be too cold soon to do anything else," Jim says. "At this point in the year, we usually either advise people to hunker down for the winter or move them along faster. I get the feeling that waiting around for six months isn't really an option for you."

"No, sir," Jared agrees. "Not after the news. Not for anyone helping us out, either."

"We don't usually get offers of help from north of the border," Jim goes on. "There's only so much they _can_ do according to international treaties. But once in a while, they hear about someone who's got valuable cargo of a sort, either in their head or otherwise, and they take the risk." He eyes both Jared and Jensen. "This is an opportunity you shouldn't pass up."

Jared turns to look at him, and Jensen sighs. They've already taken leaps as big as this, in some sense. There's just something about Lostwood that's always made his skin crawl. The thought of writing off an area bigger than some states as an environmental sacrifice zone and then using that as license to make it even more terrible represents the worst of what society has become. And to have to make their way through it in person, without knowing what exactly they're walking through…

 _Look at it this way,_ Jensen says to himself. _If it's the last part of this country you see, it'll make you even more determined to fight for it from the North._

 

They spend one more night in the cabin, huddled up beneath the covers. "They haven't said anything about the border," Jared says. "How to cross it or anything."

"Suppose they'll tell us that at the last station," Jensen replies. "And anyway, if the Canadians are willing to help us get there, they'll probably be watching out for us, too."

Jared's voice gets smaller. "What happens when they find out I haven't actually stolen any nanotechnology? That they're helping us for nothing?"

"The first thing we do is ask for asylum," Jensen says. "You for what you _do_ have on you, and me for aiding and abetting. Besides, I'm sure you know plenty about Foxxonbank and their R &D, based on what you just said in there."

"Yeah, I probably shouldn't have said that," Jared winces.

"No, you shouldn't," Jensen says. "But it's done. From now on, we keep quiet, okay? Let people think what they want to."

Jared nods. Then he brightens. "I wonder if we'll end up glowing in the dark after walking through Lostwood. Or hey, maybe we'll get superpowers." 

"Shut up." Jensen elbows him. "For all we know, someone's going to pick us up in a truck and carry us around it."

"Guess we'll find out when we get there," Jared says. He wraps his arms around Jensen and pulls him down against him. "For now, I think we need to get some sleep."

"Busy day tomorrow," Jensen agrees. "Sitting on our asses riding in a train car all day."

"Couple of days, probably. Don't know that it'll be that easy to sleep."

"Probably right." Jensen lays his head down on Jared's chest. "But hey, there's only one more station to go."

"Then the North," Jared says. "Wonder what that'll be like."

"Moose," Jensen says. "All over the place."

Jared pinches his side, and Jensen yelps. Then he says, "It'll probably be like it used to be here. When we were kids." 

"Do you think we can really do something from up there?" Jared asks. "That it's even possible to turn things around, go back to the way it was?"

"Probably not all the way," Jensen says. "But yeah, I gotta believe there's some hope. Otherwise there wouldn't have been any point in coming along for the ride."

"I'm so glad you did," Jared says quietly. "I never could have made it this far by myself."

"I'm glad I did too," Jensen says. He presses a kiss to Jared's chest. "And I'm glad we're going to go the rest of the way."

"I think we already did that," Jared replies, snickering.

Jensen lightly thwacks his chest. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do." Jared briefly caresses his hair before replying, "And I'm glad we are. I think we really can make a difference, even if it's a huge fight. Think of all the people we've met along the way, and the others who agree but don't want to help openly. We can reach out to them, start small but build up. We can do it, Jensen."

"I know we can." Jensen leans up to give him a kiss. "And we'll start in the morning. Just one more station to go."

 

Jim drives them back down the mountain under the same blue tarp. It's mid-morning when they come to a stop and he lifts the tarp from the truck. They're parked at a railroad siding, dry sagebrush spreading out to their right and green-and-brown mountains rising to their left. About a quarter of a mile away, a highway hums along, tonmusses zipping past in both directions. 

There are three tanker cars sitting on the siding, shiny white and gleaming so brightly in the sunlight Jensen almost has to look away. The rear two are plain, but the front one has brightly-colored squares set on point all over it, some warnings he doesn't know how to read and some he does. "Does this car actually carry that kind of shit?" he asks, pointing at it.

"It's been cleaned," Jim replies. "Come on."

Jensen doubts it, but what choice do they have? He follows Jared and Jim to the railcar, packs slung over their backs once again. 

They climb up the rungs on the side of the car and onto the top. There's a hatch in the center, and Jim spins the wheel to open it. "Take a look," he says, gesturing inside.

Jensen peers over the edge. It's just as shiny white on the inside, and he wonders if maybe it was cleaned up after all. "This the only way in?" he asks.

"Afraid so."

"It's not air-tight, is it?" Jared asks.

"Supposed to be," Jim replies. "Given that it was designed to be carrying some really toxic shit through people's backyards." He puts a hand on the top of the car. "See this, though?"

There's a small hole next to his fingers, not quite the size of his palm. "We're supposed to breathe through that?" Jensen asks.

"There's about a dozen of them," Jim replies. "And a lever beneath the hatch to close them. When the train stops, you need to make sure they're shut. Don't need someone doing an inspection and finding holes in the toxic waste car."

"What if they do another kind of inspection?" Jensen asks.

Jim shakes his head. "Given the train's destination and the warnings on the side, I don't think anyone will be too keen to stick their head in here. Manifest will show they shipped from the GoogMonsantheon Rocky Mountain Arsenal up in Denver. If anyone really wants to look, there are two other cars for them to check out."

It sounds reasonable enough. So they thank Jim, drop down into the empty tank, and set up in one corner. The tank is tall enough that it takes Jared reaching up on his toes to lever the airholes shut. Once he's done that as a test and then re-opened them, Jim bids them good luck and is on his way.

It takes about half an hour before there's the noise of an engine, and Jared quickly closes the air holes. Soon, there's a light thump. Metal rattles outside, and then they're slowly moving northward. Jared reaches up to give them some air. After that, there's nothing to do but wait.

Jensen uses his implants sparingly, not wanting to run down their charge. He only checks in once in a while to see where they are and to check in with his catcher. He isn't surprised to hear announcements describing the two of them and suggesting that people alert the authorities if they're seen. News reports confirm that the story of Jared stealing nano-tech has been made public, and now Jensen is being portrayed as his accomplice. He hopes the fire he set before they left did a thorough enough job of destroying his electronics. He'd erased all of the records he could that might connect him to anyone else trying to live outside of the congloms' strangehold. Hopefully, that was enough.

Finally, Jensen turns off the devices and sits back against the curving interior wall of the train car. "Wake me up in a few hours," he says. "We need to take turns being awake."

"Sure thing." Jared shifts position, stretching his long legs out in front of him and patting one thigh. "Want a pillow?"

Jensen rolls over and puts his head down. Jared's thigh is pretty solid, but it's better than the metal of the train car. Even though they're moving pretty slowly, it still takes a while before he can relax enough with the motion of the train to fall asleep. 

When he wakes again, he instantly hears a quiet, "Shhh."

Lifting his head, Jensen looks around. The car is dark inside, and he looks up to see the airholes shut. That explains why he's lying on a balled-up jacket, not Jared's leg. A quick check tells him they're well north of Denver, almost to the state line. He turns his blocker up so that there's a dim blue glow. Catching Jared's attention, he mouths, _You okay?_

Jared nods, though he looks nervous. Jensen grabs his hand and squeezes it. Leaning up, he whispers in Jared's ear, "Probably just adding on some cars."

Jared nods again. 

They wait in silence, Jensen trying not to think about how much air is available in the tanker car and how long they can sit there. To distract himself, he checks on the news. Nothing has changed since he last looked. Probably good news, he figures. If Foxxonbank had picked up any kind of trail on the two of them, they'd be proclaiming that they'd apprehended dangerous elements who were part of the Railroad. Every few months, someone is caught helping a fugitive, and the authorities always make as big of a deal of it as they can. Helps to discourage people from risking their necks if they know their property and freedom are going to be forfeit.

Finally, they slowly start moving again. They wait until they've picked up some speed before Jared opens the air holes again. Jared stays standing for a moment, taking deep breaths.

Jensen joins him, putting an arm around him as they sway together in the car. Outside, it's dark, but stars are occasionally visible through the holes overhead. Jensen's geo-tracer beeps softly as they cross the state line, and he briefly closes his eyes. There's still such a long way to go, but they're getting closer with every mile.

 

They take turns sleeping for the next twenty-four hours or so. The train stops a few more times, each time with a gentle thud that suggested cars are being added. Their path on the geo-tracer bends westward, then a long turn back east bringing them into North Dakota. The border is so close now, Jensen thinks. Too bad the hardest part is still ahead. 

By Jensen's internal clock and map, it's nine in the morning when the train rolls to a stop in the little town of White Earth. Jared switches the airholes closed, and they wait in silence. Outside, there are clanking noises, followed by the distant chug of an engine. The sound fades away, and they still sit there. Jared looks nervously up at the closed airholes, but they don't move.

At least fifteen minutes pass before there's a double clang overhead. It's followed by three taps, and then two again.

Relieved, Jensen gestures to Jared, who reaches up as high as he can and knocks on the overhead latch in the same pattern.

A moment later, the hatch is lifted. The face that peers down at them is behind a protective shield, a white hazmat suit covering their head and torso. They toss down two more of the suits, and Jared and Jensen quickly put them on. 

In the suit, Jensen finds another set of electronics that he can instantly tap into and get a better signal. A quick scan of the news tells him that nothing has changed: he and Jared are still wanted for supposed theft, though there's no indication that the search has narrowed at all. The best news is that there's nothing about increased border patrols, and he relaxes a fraction.

"All set?" Jared asks. It's a jolt to realize his voice is right in Jensen's ear, thanks to the suit.

Jensen nods and gives him a thumbs up.

There's a rope ladder being unrolled, and they struggle to climb it in their bulky suits. Jensen's at the top first, but he's still trying to clamber over the side of the railcar and maneuver down to the ground. It's not until he hears Jared's gasp in his ear that he looks around.

They're on the edge of a vast plain, spreading out on all sides. Everywhere Jensen can see, it's blackened and charred. There's steam or smoke rising here and there, faint wisps against the black ground. A line of skeleton trees weaves back and forth to their left, as if following a stream that no longer flows. 

In the far distance, the line of the flat ground is broken by jagged, white piles. Jensen consults his internal map and realizes the piles are to the north, between them and the border. _Of course_ , he sighs to himself.

Jared has joined him on the ground, looking back and forth. "Wow," he says.

The man who let them out of the traincar holds out a hand. "Call me Alex," he says through the helmets. "Welcome to Lostwood."

Alex leads them alongside the line of a dozen traincars nearly identical to theirs, though none have quite the collection of hazardous markings that theirs did. The cars are parked on a siding next to a rail line, and in the far distance, Jensen can see the line of a train moving away from them. "Why are these parked here?" he asks, gesturing at the cars they're walking next to.

"Different materials get unloaded in different places," Alex replies. He sounds younger than Jensen would have expected. "Liquids vs. solids, really bad stuff vs. just bad stuff, that kind of thing."

"I take it we're in the 'really bad' category?" Jensen asks, holding his arms out from his sides.

"Not the worst of the worst," Alex replies. "But the suits do make it easier to hide people who aren't from around here."

"So what's the plan?" Jared asks.

Alex points north, away from the train. "Thirty-two miles to go. I can drive you part of the way, past the worst of the contamination. They haven't dared pile up shit right along the border, so the last ten miles or so will be easier. Treaties still matter for something, I guess. 'Course, there's coal mining right over the border, so it's not like it's pristine wilderness anyway."

"And then what?" Jared asks. "We just run for it?"

"I'll give you more details when we get there," Alex says. "For now, it's best to keep moving. These suits are good for individual contaminants, but god only knows what the combination of things out here might do to them."

"How much time do you spend out here?" Jensen asks as they trudge towards a white van parked on the dirt road paralleling the train tracks.

"As little as possible," Alex replies. "And not just because it's unhealthy. My family farmed this area six generations back before the Big Spill. Some of our neighbors, of course, were here before that. To think that it's all gone, and the people who did it don't even care…it's a hard thing to face."

"How many people still live around here?" Jared asks.

"A few hundred. Most of us work here in one way or another, though we have to rotate off every few months. There used to be more people flying in for inspections and the like, made it possible to keep a hotel going and a few restaurants. Now they just monitor it all remotely and decide where to dump the next batch from some office somewhere." Alex throws his hands up in an exaggerated motion. "Leaving us to clean up their mess. Literally."

They climb into the van, Jared and Jensen in the back with a couple of metal toolboxes and two rolls of dark green plastic. As they start off, Jared asks, "Is there actually any cleaning up going on?"

"Not exactly," Alex replies. "I mean, it's like the old sanitary landfills, where you put down a layer of garbage and cover it with dirt before putting down another layer. We do that here, but there's no telling what seeps through the dirt. And the one time they brought in some microbes or bacteria or something to try and eat the contamination, they died within weeks."

They exchange looks and fall silent. Jensen's not even going to ask about removing his helmet until he has to. If Alex is driving the van with his full suit on, Jensen's keeping his on as well.

There aren't any windows in the van, and it's probably just as well. Jensen's morbid curiosity about what they're driving through will have to remain unassuaged. 

Instead, he closes his eyes and concentrates on connecting via his implants. There's a faint but steady signal up here, and he's even able to identify some signals coming from across the border. He can't hook up to them, not without a few modifications, but those will be easy enough to make once they've crossed. He hopes.

"News is still the same," he finally says to Jared. "Nothing changed on either end."

Jared nods. "Guess that's good, right? They haven't zeroed in on us."

"I haven't noticed any higher border activity than normal," Alex says. "Which is why I'm not giving you guys a rest. The sooner you're out of here, the better."

"Not going to argue with that," Jared replies.

It's an hour after leaving the train cars before the van pulls to a stop. Outside, there's a faint, whispering noise. "End of the road," Alex says. "You're on foot from here."

They're in front of a tiny, abandoned church. The white paint has almost entirely flaked off the boards, and the steeple has a dent in the side like a giant bird smashed into it. It looks like half a building: the steeple is over the door, but only the right-hand side of the church was ever built. 

Jensen consults his geo-tracer. Ten miles to the border. It's almost two, which means if they can keep up a three-mile-an-hour pace, they'll be there by six. _Just in time for dinner_ , he tells himself, then shakes his head. Best not to be making any plans yet. Even here, there's a long ways to go.

Some of the white piles he had seen from the train car are looming over the church, half-burying the handful of gravestones huddled under a single scraggly pine tree. They're fine grains, like large crystals of salt or sugar. The wind blowing past them rubs the grains together, leading to a constant low hissing. "What is this?" he asks.

"Salt," Alex replies. "Sometimes goes in the layers between waste, depending on what it is. Or it's used to treat the roads and rails in the winter. Don't want anything that's coming up here spilling any more than it already has, though it's hard to see how things could get worse."

Looking around, Jensen has to agree. It's bare earth in all directions, some of it scorched black, some of it colored with streaks of orange or ochre. There's no vegetation here, not even the traces of it. Instead, there are the tall white salt piles, and in the distance to the east, looming mountains that are too symmetrical to be anything but man made.

He checks his internal compass and points north. "Ten miles?"

"That's right." Alex hands them each a plain white garbage bag. "Take the suits off and put them in there. I can't have them go missing."

Mentally crossing his fingers that it really is just salt in the piles before them, Jensen hops out of the suit and hands it over. Instantly, the sweat down his back starts to cool in the breeze, and he shivers.

"You'll be all right once you're walking," Alex says, not unkindly. "Take the road all the way. It's a state road, but it's not like anyone thought they could make a profit up here, so it's still public. You'll cross one train track, so keep an eye out. The trains are automated, but sometimes there's guards or workers on them anyway. When the road turns to dirt, you're almost there. It skirts a lake and crosses a stream, both of which you should avoid. Then it's just a short distance to the border. They haven't built the wall this far out, and the border guards are pretty rare. Probably figure Lostwood is enough to keep people away."

"Any towns?" Jensen asks.

Alex scoffs. "Anyone who hadn't already sought out greener pastures after the Crash fled after the Big Spill. The groundwater is completely unusable, and it doesn't rain enough to harvest. Anyone else you might see up here is probably going the same place you are."

"What about drones?" Jared asks. "Or other remote surveillance?" He spreads his arms wide to indicate the vast, flat landscape. "Not like there's anywhere to hide out here."

Alex gaze flickers to Jared's hand and then back to him. "Not likely there'd be any. Might be Canadians conducting aerial contamination scans, but that's about it. And you might want them to pick you up, anyway." 

"There's no one meeting us?" Jared asks. "I thought that we were suddenly of interest to someone up north."

Alex shakes his head. "They know you're coming, but they're not going to be waiting at the border. They're not that dumb. It'd be like putting a flashing light overhead announcing that they're expecting fugitives to enter." 

"Fair enough. Thanks." Jensen doesn't reach out for a handshake, not when Alex is still in his hazmat suit. "We'd best be letting you get back."

"Good luck." Alex gives them both a little salute and climbs back into the van. As he drives away, they start walking north.

The sun on their backs feels good, and Jensen does warm up pretty quickly. They've each got a bottle of water and some kind of sandwich that Alex passed them, but by mutual agreement, they're going to get a little farther from Lostwood before taking a break. The wind is at their backs, after all.

After a few minutes, they pass some low piles on their right, and then more on the left. Jensen's starting to get nervous that they haven't actually left Lostwood behind when they come across a weather-beaten sign. It's an old quarry, sprawling across both sides of the road. Of course, who knows what's been thrown into the old quarry pits recently, and so they hurry on. 

After about an hour, they cross the promised train tracks and come to the remains of a town. Columbus had 133 people according to the rusted green sign at the city limits. If any of them are left, there's no sign of their presence. Houses sit with doors open and gaping, and Jensen would bet the pipes and wiring were stripped long ago. Weeds replace what used to be lawns, though even the weeds are yellow and stunted. The leaves have fallen off the trees already, or else the trees are dead, giving a skeletal look to the entire place.

Columbus is only about three blocks long, and soon they're out on the featureless plains again. This area didn't burn, but the grass is sickly and yellow. A stream that winds its way under a bridge is too dark to be just water, and orange lines on the banks indicate where past floods washed up who knows what.

"Hope this all flows south," Jared says. "Canada probably wouldn't appreciate all this crap flowing into their rivers." 

"We'll ask them when we get there," Jensen replies.

They trudge on for a while. Then Jared says, "That's the first time you've said something like that. Like you actually think we're going to get there."

Jensen waves north, down the disintegrating asphalt road. "This is as close as we've been," he says. "Kind of hard not to think about it now."

"I still don't want to jinx it," Jared says. 

"I get that," Jensen replies. "But we should at least agree on what we're going to say when we get there. Like, they're probably going to know who we are, or at least they'll think they do. Depends on how much they believe what Foxconnbank has to say."

"We just ask for asylum, right?" Jared asks. He holds up his hand, the metal gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. "This is a pretty powerful explanation."

"For you, at least," Jensen says. "I guess I'm just along for the ride."

Jared scoffs. "From what you've told me, you could come up with a couple dozen illegal things you've done without thinking about it. Starting with these." He taps the side of Jensen's head, where his implants sit. 

Jensen shrugs. "I guess." They're passing what used to be a farmstead, faded red barn leaning to one side, the remains of a white clapboard house listing the other way. Dual rows of trees used to form a windbreak, but now the wind whistles through empty branches. A rusted green tractor sits in the driveway like it's waiting for its owner to return.

They reach the lake that Luke mentioned with about half a mile to go by Jensen's geo-tracer. He's edgy, looking around for border guards, blockers and sensors turned to their highest levels. But there's nothing but the whistle of the wind.

The dirt road bends around one edge of the lake. There's a double row of dead bushes between the road and the lake, probably planted there long ago to keep dust from being blown into the water. Jensen's craning his head in all directions, but it's Jared who spots something first. "Down," he says quietly, putting a hand on Jensen's shoulder and pushing him to the ground. 

Jensen's heart is thumping. Even when the 'lims were telling Jared where to go to turn himself, they'd never come this close to being noticed. He didn't really expect that they'd get all the way across the border without encountering any kind of security. He leans in to ask Jared what he saw, but Jared is silently pointing upwards. 

They huddle in the minimal protection of the bushes as a small drone flies overhead. The red light blinking on the side doesn't change, and its course stays steady as it moves west. Jensen can't help but feel that they've been spotted, and he nervously looks north. "Should we run for it?"

"We don't know what's at the actual border," Jared replies. "I mean, there might not be a wall, but there's bound to be a fence, right? We can't just go crashing through it."

"You're right." Jensen lets out a sigh. "We're so close, though!"

"All the more reason to be patient." Jared puts his arm around him. "Let's watch for a while, see if that drone comes back."

Half an hour passes, and there's no further sign of life. They eat their sandwiches, and an hour passes. Finally, Jensen stands up and stretches his legs. "It's gonna be dark in an hour or so," he says. "I think we're better off crossing in the day. We don't know how far we're going to have to go at the other end."

"Makes sense," Jared replies. He stands up as well. "Let's go."

They make their way cautiously down the dirt road, crossing the stream on a bridge that's got one big hole right in the middle. As they get closer, they realize there is a fence: three strands of barbed wire, high as Jensen's shoulders, along the invisible line on the ground that means freedom.

"Forgot my wire cutters," Jensen quips. 

"Probably electrified anyway," Jared muses. He touches the tip of one metal finger to the wire, and sparks fly. "Don't touch that with bare skin," he warns.

"Noted," Jensen replies. He rummages through his pack. "I've got nothing that can cut this."

"We can go back to where the trees were and get some sticks to prop it open. I think we'll both be able to squeeze through."

In the end, that's what works, though Jensen's jeans do get snagged on the lower strand, and Jared has to carefully pry him free, sparks shooting off his fingers. "Fuck," he mutters when he's done, shaking out his augmented hand. "Hope that didn't fry any circuits."

"If it did, we can fix it." Jensen stands up and realizes they're both on the other side of the fence, and a slow grin spreads across his face. "We made it, Jared."

Jared looks around, up and down the expanse of the wire fence. Finally, he turns to Jensen, a matching grin on his face. "I think we did."

Jensen lunges up to kiss him, arms going around him at the same time Jared embraces him. They stand there for a while, not kissing so much as sharing breath, enjoying the free air and all that it means for them.

Finally, Jared pulls back and holds out his augmented hand. He grins. "Let's go find us some Mounties."


End file.
